THE  STORY  OF  AB 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

A  TALE  OF  THE  TIME 
OF  THE  CAVE  MAN 


BY 


STANLEY  WATERLOO 

ii 

Author  of  "A  Man  and  a  Woman," 
"An  Odd  Situation,"  etc. 


GARDEN  CITY        NEW  YORK 
DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1 897,  by  Way  &  Williami 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 

AT 
THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS,  GARDEN  CITY,  If.  Y. 


i 


S 


INTRODUCTION. 

THIS  is  the  story  of  Ab,  a  man  of  the  Age 
of  Stone,  who  lived  so  long  ago  that  we  can 
not  closely  fix  the  date,  and  who  loved  and 
fought  well. 

In  his  work  the  author  has  been  cordially 
assisted  by  some  of  the  ablest  searchers  of 
two  continents  into  the  life  history  of  prehis 
toric  times.  With  characteristic  helpfulness 
and  interest,  these  already  burdened  students 
have  aided  and  encouraged  him,  and  to  them 
he  desires  to  express  his  sense  of  profound 
obligation  and  his  earnest  thanks. 

Once  only  does  the  writer  depart  from 
accepted  theories  of  scientific  research.  After 
an  at  least  long-continued  study  of  existing 
evidence  and  information  relating  to  the 
Stone  Ages,  the  conviction  grew  upon  him 
that  the  mysterious  gap  supposed  by  scientific 


INTRODUCTION 

teachers  to  divide  Paleolithic  from  Neolithic 
man  never  really  existed.  No  convulsion  of 
nature,  no  new  race  of  human  beings  is 
needed  to  explain  the  difference  between  the 
relics  of  Paleolithic  and  Neolithic  strugglers. 
Growth,  experiment,  adaptation,  discovery, 
inevitable  in  man,  sufficiently  account  for  all 
the  relatively  swift  changes  from  one  form  of 
primitive  life  to  another  more  advanced,  from 
the  time  of  chipped  to  that  of  polished  imple 
ments.  Man  has  been,  from  the  beginning, 
under  the  never  resting,  never  hastening, 
forces  of  evolution.  The  earth  from  which 
he  sprang  holds  the  record  of  his  transforma 
tions  in  her  peat-beds,  her  buried  caverns 
and  her  rocky  fastnesses.  The  eternal  laws 
change  man,  but  they  themselves  do  not 
change. 

Ab  and  Lightfoot  and  others  of  the  cave 
people  whose  story  is  told  in  the  tale  which 
follows  the  author  cannot  disown.  He  has 
shown  them  as  they  were.  Hungry  and  cold, 
they  slew  the  fierce  beasts  which  were  scarcely 
more  savage  than  they,  and  were  fed  and 
clothed  by  their  flesh  and  fur.  In  the  caves 
of  the  earth  the  cave  men  and  their  families 
were  safely  sheltered.  Theirs  were  the  ele- 


INTRODUCTION 

mental  wants  and  passions.  They  were 
swayed  by  love,  in  some  form  at  least,  by 
jealousy,  fear,  revenge,  and  by  the  memory 
of  benefits  and  wrongs.  They  cherished  their 
young;  they  fought  desperately  with  the  beasts 
of  their  time,  and  with  each  other,  and,  when 
their  brief,  turbulent  lives  were  ended,  they 
passed  into  silence,  but  not  into  oblivion. 
The  old  Earth  carefully  preserved  their  story, 
so  that  we,  their  children,  may  read  it  now. 

S.  W. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  THE  BABE  IN  THE  WOODS. 

II.  MAN  AND  HYENA. 

III.  A   FAMILY    DINNER. 

IV.  AB   AND    OAK.  - 

V.  A   GREAT   ENTERPRISE. 

VI.  A   DANGEROUS   VISITOR. 

VII.  THE    UNEXPECTED    HAPPENS. 

VIII.  SABRE-TOOTH  AttD    RHINOCEROS. 

IX.  DOMESTIC    MATTERS. 

X.  OLD    MOK,   THE    MENTOR. 

XI.  DOINGS   AT    HOME.       -  -  - 

XII.  OLD    MOK'S   TALES. 

XIII.  AB'S   GREAT  DISCOVERY.       - 

XIV.  A    LESSON    IN    SWIMMING. 
XV.  A    MAMMOTH    AT    BAY. 

XVI,  THE   FEAST   OF    THE    MAMMOTH. 

XVII.  THE   COMRADES. 

XVIII.  LOVE    AND   DEATH. 

XIX.  A    RACE   WITH    DREAD. 

XX.  THE   FIRE    COUNTRY.       - 

XXI.  THE   WOOING    OF    LIGHTFOOT.     - 

XXII.  THE   HONEYMOON. 

XXIII.  MORE   OF    THE    HONEYMOON. 

XXIV.  THE    FIRE    COUNTRY    AGAIN. 
XXV.  A    GREAT    STEP   FORWARD. 

XXVI.  FACING   THE    RAIDER. 

XXVII.  LITTLE    MOK. 

XXVIII.  THE    BATTLE    OF   THE    BARRIERS. 

xxix.  OLD  HILLTOP'S  LAST  STRUGGLE. 

XXX.  OUR   VERY   GREAT   GRANDFATHER. 


X 
II 

23 
28 
40 

53 
61 

7i 

83 

92 

104 

117 

127 

140 

153 

I64 

177 
190 
205 
218 
229 
242 

255 
271 
282 
292 
307 
3i7 
332 
345 


KM* 


THE  STORY  OF  AB. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    BABE   IN    THE   WOODS. 

DRIFTED  beech  leaves  had  made  a  soft,  clean 
bed  in  a  little  hollow  in  a  wood.  The  wood 
was  beside  a  river,  the  trend  of  which  was  to 
ward  the  east.  There  was  an  almost  precipi 
tous  slope,  perhaps  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
from  the  wood,  downward  to  the  river.  The 
wood  itself,  a  sort  of  peninsula,  was  small  in 
extent  and  partly  isolated  from  the  greater  forest 
back  of  it  by  a  slight  clearing.  Just  below  the 
wood,  or,  in  fact,  almost  in  it  and  near  the  crest 
of  the  rugged  bank,  the  mouth  of  a  small  cave 
was  visible.  It  was  so  blocked  with  stones  as 
to  leave  barely  room  for  the  entrance  of  a  hu 
man  being.  The  little  couch  of  beech  leaves 
already  referred  to  was  not  many  yards  from 
the  cave. 

On  the  leafy  bed  rolled  about  and  kicked  up 
his  short  legs  in  glee  a  little  brown  babe.  It 


-2.    .  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

was  evident  that  he  could  not  walk  yet  and 
his  lack  of  length  and  width  and  thickness  in 
dicated  what  might  be  a  babe  not  more  than  a 
year  of  age,  but,  despite  his  apparent  youth, 
this  man-child  seemed  content  thus  left  alone, 
while  his  grip  on  the  twigs  which  had  fallen 
into  his  bed  was  strong,  as  he  was  strong,  and 
he  was  breaking  them  delightedly.  Not  only 
was  the  hair  upon  his  head  at  least  twice  as 
long  as  that  of  the  average  year-old  child  of 
to-day,  but  there  were  downy  indications  upon 
his  arms  and  legs,  and  his  general  aspect  was 
a  swart  and  rugged  one.  He  was  about  as  far 
from  a  weakly  child  in  appearance  as  could  be 
well  imagined  and  he  was  about  as  jolly  a 
looking  baby,  too,  as  one  could  wish  to  see. 
He  was  laughing  and  cooing  as  he  kicked  about 
among  the  beech  leaves  and  looked  upward  at 
the  blue  sky.  His  dress  has  not  yet  been  al 
luded  to  and  an  apology  for  the  negligence 
may  be  found  in  the  fact  that  he  had  no  dress. 
He  wore  nothing.  He  was  a  baby  of  the  time 
of  the  cave  men;  of  the  closing  period  of  the 
age  of  chipped  stone  instruments;  the  epoch 
of  mild  climate;  the  ending  of  one  great  ani 
mal  group  and  the  beginning  of  another;  the 
time  when  the  mammoth,  the  rhinoceros,  th§ 


THE  BABE  IN  THE  WOODS  3 

great  cave  tiger  and  cave  bear,  the  huge  elk, 
reindeer  and  aurochs  and  urus  and  hosts  of  little 
horses,  fed  or  gamboled  in  the  same  forests 
and  plains,  with  much  discretion  as  to  relative 
distances  from  each  other. 

It  was  some  time  ago,  no  matter  how  many 
thousands  of  years,  when  the  child — they  called 
him  Ab — lay  there,  naked,  upon  his  bed  of 
beech  leaves.  It  may  be  said,  too,  that  there 
existed  for  him  every  chance  for  a  lively  and 
interesting  existence,  There  was  prospect 
that  he  would  be  engaged  in  running  away 
from  something  or  running  after  something 
during  most  of  his  life.  Times  were  not  dull 
for  humanity  in  the  age  of  stone.  The  chil 
dren  had  no  lack  of  things  to  interest,  if  not 
always  to  amuse,  them,  and  neither  had  the 
men  and  women.  And  this  is  the  truthful 
story  of  the  boy  Ab  and  his  playmates  and  of 
what  happened  when  he  grew  to  be  a  man. 

It  is  well  to  speak  here  of  the  river.  The 
stream  has  been  alrea'dy  mentioned  as  flowing 
to  the  eastward.  It  did  not  flow  in  that  di 
rection  regularly;  its  course  was  twisted  and 
diverted,  and  there  were  bays  and  inlets  and 
rapids  between  precipices,  and  islands  and 
wooded  peninsulas,  and  then  the  river  merged 


4  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

into  a  lake  of  miles  in  extent,  the  waters  con 
verging  into  the  river  again.  So  it  was  that 
the  banks  in  one  place  might  form  a  height 
and  in  another  merge  evenly  into  a  densely 
wooded  forest  or  a  wide  plain.  It  was  so,  too» 
that  these  conditions  might  exist  opposite  each 
other.  Thus  the  woodland  might  face  the 
plain,  or  the  precipice  some  vast  extending 
marsh. 

To  speak  further  of  this  river  it  may  be  men 
tioned,  incidentally,  that  to-day  its  upper 
reaches  still  exist  and  that  the  relatively  small 
stream  remaining  is  called  the  Thames.  Be 
side  and  across  it  lies  the  greatest  city  in  the 
world  and  its  mouth  is  upon  what  is  called  the 
English  Channel.  At  the  time  when  the  baby, 
Ab,  slept  that  afternoon  in  his  nest  in  the 
beech  leaves  this  river  was  not  called  the 
Thames,  it  was  only  called  the  Running  Water, 
to  distinguish  it  from  the  waters  of  the  coast. 
It  did  not  empty  into  the  British  Channel,  for 
the  simple  and  sufficient  reason  that  there  was 
no  such  channel  at  the  time.  Where  now 
exists  that  famous  passage  which  makes  islands 
of  Great  Britain,  where,  tossed  upon  the 
choppy  waves,  the  travelers  of  the  world  are 
seasick,  where  Drake  and  Howard  chased  the 


THE  BABE  IN  THE  WOODS  5 

Great  Armada  to  the  Northern  seas  and  where, 
to-day,  the  ships  of  the  nations  are  steered 
toward  a  social  and  commercial  center,  was 
then  good,  solid  earth  crowned  with  great  for 
ests,  and  the  present  little  tail  end  of  a  river 
was  part  of  a  great  affluent  of  the  Rhine,  the 
German  river  famous  still,  but  then  with  a 
a  size  and  sweep  worth  talking  of.  Then  the 
Thames  and  the  Elbe  and  Weser,  into  which 
tumbled  a  thousand  smaller  streams,  all  went 
to  feed  what  is  now  the  Rhine,  and  that  then 
tremendous  river  held  its  course  through  dense 
forests  and  deep  gorges  until  it  reached  broad 
plains,  where  the  North  Sea  is  to-day,  and 
blended  finally  with  the  Northern  Ocean. 

The  trees  which  stood  upon  the  bank  of 
the  great  river,  or  which  could  be  seen  in  the 
far  distance  beyond  the  marsh  or  plain,  were 
not  all  the  same  as  now  exist.  There  was 
still  a  distinctive  presence  of  the  towering 
conifers,  something  such  as  are  represented  in 
the  redwood  forests  of  California  to-day,  or, 
in  other  forms,  in  some  Australian  woods. 
There  was  a  suggestion  of  the  fernlike  but 
gigantic  age  of  growth  of  the  distant  past,  the 
past  when  the  earth's  surface  was  yet  warm 
and  its  air  misty,  and  there  was  an  exuberance 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

of  all  plant  and  forest  growth,  something  com 
pared  with  which  the  growth  in  the  same  lati 
tude,  just  now,  would  make,  it  may  be,  but  a 
stunted  showing.  It  is  wonderful,  though,  the 
close  resemblance  between  most  of  the  trees  of 
the  cave  man's  age,  so  many  tens  of  thousands 
of  years  ago,  and  the  trees  most  common  to  the 
temperate  zone  to-day.  The  peat  bogs  an<i 
the  caverns  and  the  strata  of  deposits  in  a, 
host  of  places  tell  truthfully  what  trees  gre\v 
in  this  distant  time.  Already  the  oak  and 
beech  and  walnut  and  butternut  and  hazel 
reared  their  graceful  forms  aloft,  and  the 
ground  beneath  their  spreading  branches  was 
strewn  with  the  store  of  nuts  which  gave  a 
portion  of  food  for  many  of  the  beasts  and  for 
man  as  well.  The  ash  and  the  yew  were 
there,  tough  and  springy  of  fiber  and  destined 
in  the  far  future  to  become  famous  in  song 
and  story,  because  they  would  furnish  the 
wood  from  which  was  made  the  weapon  of 
the  bowman.  The  maple  was  there  with  all 
its  symmetry.  There  was  the  elm,  the  dog 
ged  and  beautiful  tree-thing  of  to-day,  which 
so  clings  to  life  and  flourishes  in  the  midst  of 
unwholesome  city  surroundings  and  makes  the 
human  hive  so  much  the  better.  There  were 


THE  BABE  IN  THE  WOODS  7 

the  pines,  the  sycamore,  the  foxwood  and 
dogwood,  and  lime  and  laurel  and  poplar  and 
elder  and  willow,  and  the  cherry  and  crab  ap 
ple  and  others  of  the  fruit-bearing  kind,  since 
so  developed  that  they  are  great  factors  in 
man's  subsistence  now.  It  was  a  time  of 
plenty  which  was  riotous.  There  remained, 
too,  a  vestige  of  the  animal  as  well  as  of  the 
vegetable  life  of  the  remoter  ages.  There 
were  strange  and  dangerous  creatures  which 
came  sometimes  up  the  river  from  its  inlet 
into  the  ocean.  Such  events  had  been  mat 
ters  of  interest,  not  to  say  of  anxiety,  to  Ab's 
ancestors. 

The  baby  lying  there  among  the  beech 
leaves  tired,  finally,  of  its  cooing  and  twig- 
snapping  and  slept  the  sleep  of  dreamless 
early  childhood.  He  slept  happily  and  noise 
lessly,  but  when  he  at  last  awoke  his  de 
meanor  showed  a  change.  He  had  nothing 
to  distract  him,  unless  it  might  be  the  break 
ing  of  twigs  again.  He  had  no  toys,  and, 
being  hungry,  he  began  to  yell.  So  far  as 
can  be  learned  from  early  data,  babies,  when 
hungry,  have  always  yelled.  And,  of  old,  as 
to-day,  when  a  baby  yelled,  the  woman  who 
had  borne  it  was  likelv  to  appear  at  once 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

upon  the  scene.  Ab's  mother  came  running 
lightly  from  the  river  bank  toward  where  the 
youngster  lay.  She  was  worthy  of  attention 
as  she  ran,  and  this  is  but  a  bungling  attempt 
at  a  description  of  her  and  of  her  dress. 

It  should  be  explained  here,  with  much 
care  and  caution,  that  the  mother  of  Ab  moved 
in  the  best  and  most  exclusive  circles  of  the 
time.  She  belonged  to  the  aristocracy  and, 
it  may  be  added,  regarding  this  fine  lady  per 
sonally,  that  she  had  the  weakness  of  paying 
much  attention  to  her  dress.  She  was  what 
might  properly  be  called  a  leader  of  society, 
though  society  was  at  the  time  somewhat  at 
tenuated,  families  living,  generally,  some  miles 
apart,  and  various  obstacles,  chiefly  in  the 
form  of  large,  man-eating  animals,  compli 
cating  the  matter  of  paying  calls.  As  for  the 
calls  themselves,  they  were  nearly  as  often 
aggressive  as  social,  and  there  is  a  certain  de 
gree  of  difference  between  the  vicious  use  of  a 
flint  ax  and  the  leaving  of  a  card  with  a 
bending  lackey.  But  all  this  doesn't  matter. 
The  mother  of  Ab  belonged  to  the  very  cream 
of  the  cream,  and  was  dressed  accordingly. 
Her  garb  was  elegant  but  simple;  it  had, 
first,  the  un  ;[re*t  merit,  that  it  could  easily 


THE  BABE  IN  THE  WOODS  9 

be  put  on  or  taken  off.  It  was  sustained  with 
but  a  single  knot,  a  bow-knot  — they  had 
learned  to  make  a  bow-knot  and  other  knots 
in  the  stone  age,  for,  because  of  the  manual 
requirements  for  living,  they  were  cleverer 
fumblers  with  their  fingers  than  we  are  now— 
and  the  lady  here  described  had  tied  her  knot 
in  a  manner  not  to  be  excelled  by  any  other 
woman  in  all  the  fiercely  beast-ranged  coun 
tryside. 

The  gown  itself  was  of  a  quality  to  please 
the  eye  of  the  most  carping.  It  was  made 
from  the  skins  of  wolverines,  and  was  drawn 
in  loosely  about  the  waist  by  a  tied  band,  but 
was  really  sustained  by  a  strip  of  the  skin 
which  encircled  the  left  shoulder  and  back 
and  breast.  This  left  the  right  arm  free  from 
all  encumbrance,  a  matter  of  some  impor 
tance,  for  to  be  right-handed  was  a  quality  of 
the  cave  man  as  of  the  man  to-day.  We 
should  have  a  grudge  against  them  for  this 
carelessness,  and  should,  may  be,  form  an 
ambidextrous  league,  improving  upon  the  past 
and  teaching  and  forcing  young  children  to 
use  each  hand  alike. 

The  garment  of  wolverine  skins,  sewed 
neatly  together  with  thread  of  sinews,  was  all 


10  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

the  young  mother  wore.  Thus  hanging  from 
the  shoulder  and  fully  encircling  her,  it  reached 
from  the  waist  to  about  half  way  down  between 
the  hips  and  the  knees.  It  was  as  delightful  a 
gown  as  ever  was  contrived  by  ambitious 
modiste  or  mincing  male  designer  in  these 
modern  times.  It  fitted  with  a  free  and  easy 
looseness  and  its  colors  were  such  as  blended 
smoothly  and  kindly  with  the  complexion  of  its 
wearer.  The  fur  of  the  wolverine  was  a  mixed 
black  and  white,  but  neither  black  nor  white 
is  the  word  to  use.  The  black  was  not  black; 
it  was  only  a  swart  sort  of  color,  and  the  white 
was  not  white;  it  was  but  a  dingy,  lighter  con 
trast  to  the  darker  surface  beside  it.  Yet  the 
combination  was  rather  good.  There  was 
enough  of  difference  to  catch  the  eye  and  not 
enough  of  glaringness  to  offend  it.  The  mother 
of  Ab  would  be  counted  by  a  wise  observer  as 
the  possessor  of  good  taste.  Still,  dress  is  a 
small  matter.  There  is  something  to  say 
about  the  cave  mother  aside  from  the  mere 
description  of  her  gown. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MAN    AND    HYENA. 

IT  is  but  an  act  of  simple  gallantry  and 
justice  to  assert  that  the  cave  woman  had 
a  certain  unhampered  swing  of  movement 
which  the  modern  woman  often  lacks.  With 
out  any  reflection  upon  the  blessed  woman 
of  to-day,  it  must  be  said  truthfully  that  she 
can  neither  leap  a  creek  nor  surmount  some 
such  obstacle  as  a  monster  tree  trunk  with  a 
close  approach  to  the  ease  and  grace  of  this 
mother  who  came  bounding  through  the  forest. 
There  was  nothing  unknowing  or  hesitant  about 
her  movements.  She  ran  swiftly  and  leaped 
lightly  when  occasion  came.  She  was  lithe  as 
the  panther  and  as  careless  of  where  her  brown 
feet  touched  the  ground. 

The  woman  had  physical  charms.  She  was 
of  about  the  average  size  of  womanhood  as  we 
see  it  embodied  now,  but  her  waist  was  not 
compressed  at  an  unseemly  angle,  and  much 
resembled  in  its  contour  that  of  the  Venus  of 
Milo  which  has  become  such  a  stock  ex- 
t  xi 


12  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

ample  of  the  healthfully  symmetrical.  Her 
hair  was  brown  and  long.  It  was  innocent  of 
knot  or  coil  or  braid,  and  was  transfixed  by 
no  abatis  of  dangerous  pins.  It  was  not 
parted  but  was  thrown  straight  backward  over 
the  head  and  hung  down  fairly  and  far  between 
brown  shoulders.  It  was  a  fine  head  of  hair; 
there  could  be  no  question  about  that.  It  had 
gloss  and  color.  Captious  critics,  reasoning 
from  the  standpoint  of  another  age,  might 
think  it  needed  combing,  but  that  is  only  a 
matter  of  opinion.  It  was  tangled  together 
in  a  compact  and  fluffy  mass,  and  so  did  not 
wander  into  the  woman's  eyes,  which  was  a 
good  thing  and  a  great  convenience,  for  bright 
eyes  and  unobstructed  vision  were  required  in 
those  lively  days. 

The  face  of  this  lady  showed,  at  a  glance, 
that  no  cosmetic  had  ever  been  relied  upon  to 
give  it  an  artificial  charm.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
it  would  have  been  difficult  to  use  cosmetics 
upon  that  face  in  the  modern  way,  for  there 
was  a  suggestion  of  something  more  than  down 
upon  the  countenance,  and  there  were  certain 
irregularities  of  facial  outline  so  prominent  that 
such  details  as  the  little  matter  of  complexion 
rnust  be  trifling.  The  eyes  were  deep  set  and 


MAN  AND  HYENA  13 

small,  the  nose  was  short  and  thick  and  pos 
sessed  a  certain  vagueness  of  outline  not  easy 
of  description.  The  upper  lip  was  excessively 
long  and  the  under  lip  protruding.  The  chin 
was  well  defined  and  firm.  The  mouth  was 
rather  wide,  and  the  teeth  were  strong  and 
even,  and  as  white  as  any  ivory  ever  seen. 
Such  was  the  face,  and  there  may  be  added 
some  details  of  interest  about  the  figure.  The 
arms  of  this  fascinating  woman  were  perfectly 
proportioned.  They  were  adapted  to  the  times 
and  were  very  beautiful.  Down  each  of  them 
from  shoulder  to  elbow  ran  a  strip  of  short 
dark  hair.  From  either  hand  ran  upward  to 
the  elbow  another  strip  of  hair,  and  the  two, 
meeting  at  the  elbow,  formed  a  delightful  little 
tuft  reminding  one  of  what  is  known  as  a 
"widow's  peak,"  or  that  little  point  which 
grows  down  so  charmingly  on  an  occasional 
woman's  forehead.  Her  biceps  were  tre 
mendous,  as  must  necessarily  be  the  case 
with  a  lady  accustomed  to  swing  from  limb  to 
limb  along  the  treetops.  Her  thumb  was 
nearly  as  long  as  her  fingers,  and  the  palms  of 
her  hands  were  hard.  Her  legs  were  like  her 
arms  in  their  degree  of  muscular  development 
and  hairy  adornment.  She  had  beautiful  feet 


14  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

It  is  to  be  admitted  that  her  heels  projected  a 
trifle  more  than  is  counted  the  ideal  thing  at 
the  present  day,  and  that  her  big  toe  and  all 
the  other  toes  were  very  much  in  evidence,  but 
there  is  not  one  woman  in  ten  thousand  now  who 
could  as  handily  pick  up  objects  with  her 
toes  as  could  the  mother  of  the  baby  Ab.  She 
was  as  brown  as  a  nut,  with  the  tan  of  a  half 
tropical  summer,  and  as  healthy  a  creature, 
from  tawny  head  to  backward  sloping  heel,  as 
ever  trod  a  path  in  the  world's  history.  This 
was  the  quality  of  the  lady  who  came  so 
swiftly  to  learn  the  nature  of  her  offspring's 
trouble.  Ladies  of  that  day  attended,  as  a 
rule,  to  the  wants  of  their  own  children.  A 
wet  nurse  was  a  thing  unknown  and  a  dry  one 
as  unthought  of.  This  was  good  for  the 
children. 

The  woman  made  a  dive  into  the  little  hol 
low  and  picked  the  babe  from  its  nest  of  leaves 
and  tossed  him  up  lightly,  and  at  once  his 
crying  ceased,  and  his  little  brown  arms  went 
around  her  neck,  and  he  cooed  and  prattled 
in  very  much  the  same  fashion  as  does  a  babe 
of  the  present  time.  He  was  content,  all  in  a 
moment,  yet  some  noise  must  have  aroused 
him,  for,  as  it  chanced,  there  was  great  need 


MAN  AND  HYENA  15 

that  this  particular  babe  at  this  particular 
moment  should  have  awakened  and  cried  aloud 
for  his  mother.  This  was  made  evident  im 
mediately.  As  the  woman  tossed  him  aloft  in 
her  arms  and  cuddled  him  again  there  came  a 
sound  to  her  ears  which  made  her  leap  like 
some  wilder  creature  of  the  forest  up  to  a  little 
vantage  ground.  She  turned  her  head,  and 
then — you  should  have  seen  the  woman! 

Very  nearly  above  them  swung  down  one  of 
the  branches  of  a  great  beech  tree.  The 
mother  threw  the  child  into  the  hollow  of  her 
left  arm,  and  leaped  upward  a  yard  to  catch 
the  branch  with  her  right  hand.  So  she  hung 
dangling.  Then,  instantly,  holding  him  firmly 
by  one  arm  in  her  left  hand,  she  lowered  the 
child  between  her  legs  and  clasped  them  about 
him  closely.  And  then,  had  it  been  your  for 
tune  to  be  born  in  those  times,  you  might  have 
seen  good  climbing.  With  both  her  strong 
arms  free,  this  vigorous  matron  ran  up  the 
stout  beech  limb  which  depended  downward 
from  the  great  bole  of  the  tree  until  she  was 
twenty  feet  above  the  ground,  and  then,  lifting 
herself  into  a  comfortable  place,  in  a  moment 
was  sitting  there  at  ease,  her  legs  and  one  arm 
coiled  about  the  big  branch  and  a  smaller  up- 


1 6  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

standing  one,  while  the  other  arm  held  the 
brown  babe  close  to  her  bosom. 

This  charming  lady  of  the  period  had  reached 
her  perch  in  the  beech  tree  top  none  too  soon. 
Even  as  she  swung  herself  into  place  upon  the 
huge  bough,  there  came  rushing  across  the 
space  beneath,  snarling,  smelling  and  seeking, 
a  brute  as  foul  and  dangerous  as  could  be  in> 
agined  for  mother  and  son  upon  the  ground, 
It  was  of  a  dirty  dun  color,  mottled  and  striped 
with  a  lighter  but  still  dingy  hue.  It  had  a 
black,  hoggish  nose,  but  there  were  fangs  iq 
its  great  jaws.  It  resembled  a  huge  wolf,  savt 
as  to  its  massiveness  and  club  countenance, 
It  was  one  of  the  monster  hyenas  of  the  time, 
a  beast  which  must  have  been  as  dangerous  ta 
the  men  then  living  as  any  animal  except  the 
cave  tiger  and  the  cave  bear.  Its  degenerate 
posterity,  as  they  shuffle  uneasily  back  and 
forth  when  caged  to-day,  are  perhaps  not  lesg 
foul  of  aspect,  but  are  relatively  pygmies. 
Doubtless  the  brute  had  scented  the  sleeping 
babe,  and,  snarling  aloud  in  its  search,  had 
waked  it,  inducing  the  cry  which  proved  the 
child's  salvation. 

The   beast   scented    immediately  the    prey 
above  him  and  leaped  upward  ferociously  and 


MAN  AND  HYENA  I? 

vainly.  Was  the  woman  thus  beset  thus  hold 
ing  herself  aloft  and  with  her  child  upon  one 
arm  in  a  state  of  sickening  anxiety?  Hardly! 
She  but  encircled  the  supporting  branch  the 
closer,  and  laughed  aloud.  She  even  poked 
one  bare  foot  down  at  the  leaping  beast,  and 
waved  her  leg  in  provocation.  At  the  same 
time  there  was  no  doubt  that  she  was  beset. 
Furthermore  she  was  hungry,  and  so  she  raised 
her  voice,  and  sent  out  through  the  forest  a 
strange  call,  a  quavering  minor  wail,  but  some 
thing  to  be  heard  at  a  great  distance.  There  was 
no  delay  in  the  response,  for  delays  were  dan 
gerous  when  cave  men  lived.  The  call  was 
answered  instantly  and  the  answering  cry  was 
repeated  as  she  called  again,  the  sound  of  the 
reply  approaching  near  and  nearer  all  the 
time.  All  at  once  the  manner  of  her  calling 
changed;  it  was  an  appeal  no  longer;  it  was  a 
conversation,  an  odd,  clucking,  penetrating 
speech  in  the  shortest  of  sentences.  She  was 
telling  of  the  situation.  There  was  prompt 
reply;  the  voice  seemed  suddenly  higher  in 
the  air  and  then  came,  swinging  easily  from 
branch  to  branch  along  the  treetops,  the  father 
of  Ab,  a  person  who  felt  a  natural  and  agress* 
ive  interest  in  what  was  goin§  on. 


1 8  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

To  describe  the  cave  man  it  is,  it  may  be, 
best  of  all  to  say  that  he  was  the  woman  over 
again,  only  stronger,  longer  limbed  and  deeper 
chested,  firmer  of  jaw  and  more  grim  of  coun 
tenance.  He  was  dressed  almost  as  she  was. 
From  his  broad  shoulder  hung  a  cloak  of  the 
skin  of  some  wild  beast  but  the  cord  which 
tied  it  was  a  stout  one,  and  in  the  belt  thus 
formed  was  stuck  a  weapon  of  such  quality  as 
men  have  rarely  carried  since.  It  was  a  stone 
ax;  an  ax  heavier  than  any  battle-ax  of  me 
diaeval  times,  its  haft  a  scant  three  feet  in 
length,  inclosing  the  ax  through  a  split  in  the 
tough  wood,  all  being  held  in  place  by  a  taut 
and  hardened  mass  of  knotted  sinews.  It  was 
a  fearful  weapon,  but  one  only  to  be  wielded 
by  such  a  man  as  this,  one  with  arms  almost 
as  mighty  as  those  of  the  gorilla. 

The  man  sat  himself  upon  the  limb  beside 
his  wife  and  child.  The  two  talked  together 
in  their  clucking  language  for  a  moment  or 
two,  but  few  words  were  wasted.  Words  had 
not  their  present  abundance  in  those  days; 
action  was  everything.  The  man  was  hungry, 
too,  and  wanted  to  get  home  as  soon  as  possi 
ble.  He  had  secured  food,  which  was  await 
ing  them,  and  this  slight,  annoying  episode  of 


MAN  AND  HYENA  19 

the  day  must  be  ended  promptly.  He  clam 
bered  easily  up  the  tree  and  wrenched  off  a 
deadened  limb  at  least  two  yards  in  length, 
then  tumbling  back  again  and  passing  his  wife 
and  child  along  the  main  branch,  he  swung 
down  to  where  the  leaping  beast  could  almost 
reach  him.  The  heavy  club  he  carried  gave 
him  an  advantage.  With  a  whistling  sweep, 
as  the  hyena  leaped  upward  in  its  ravenous 
folly,  came  this  huge  club  crashing  against 
the  thick  skull,  a  blow  so  fair  and  stark  and 
strong  that  the  stunned  beast  fell  backward 
upon  the  ground,  and  then,  down,  lightly  as 
any  monkey,  dropped  the  cave  man.  The 
huge  stone  ax  went  crashing  into  the  brain  of 
the  quivering  brute,  and  that  was  the  end  of 
the  incident.  Mother  and  child  leaped  down 
together,  and  the  man  and  woman  went  chat 
tering  toward  their  cave.  This  was  not  a 
particularly  eventful  day  with  them;  they  were 
accustomed  to  such  things. 

They  went  strolling  off  through  the  beech 
glades,  the  strong,  hairy,  heavy-jawed  man, 
the  muscular  but  more  lightly  built  woman 
and  the  child,  perched  firmly  and  chattering 
blithely  upon  her  shoulder  as  they  walked,  or, 
rather,  half  trotted  along  the  river  side  and 


20  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

toward  the  cave.  They  were  light  of  foot  and 
light  of  thought,  but  there  was  ever  that  al 
most  unconscious  alertness  appertaining  to 
their  time.  Their  flexible  ears  twitched,  and 
turned,  now  forward  now  backward,  to  catch 
the  slightest  sound.  Their  nostrils  were  open 
for  dangerous  scents,  or  for  the  scent  of  that 
which  might  give  them  food,  either  animal  or 
vegetable,  and  as  for  the  eyes,  well,  they  were 
the  sharpest  existent  within  the  history  of  the 
human  race.  They  were  keen  of  vision  at 
long  distance  and  close  at  hand,  and  ever 
were  they  in  motion,  swiftly  turned  sidewise 
this  way  and  that,  peering  far  ahead  or  look 
ing  backward  to  note  what  enemies  of  the 
wood  might  be  upon  the  trail.  So,  swiftly 
along  the  glade  and  ever  alert,  went  the  father 
and  mother  of  Ab,  carrying  the  strong  child 
with  them. 

There  came  no  new  alarm,  and  soon  the  cave 
was  reached,  though  on  the  way  there  was  a 
momentary  deviation  from  the  path,  to  gather 
up  the  nuts  and  berries  the  woman  had  found 
in  the  afternoon  while  the  babe  was  lying  sleep 
ing.  The  fruitage  was  held  in  a  great  leaf,  a 
pliant  thing  pulled  together  at  the  edges,  tied 
stoutly  with  a  strand  of  tough  grass,  and  mak- 


MAN  AND  HYENA  21 

ing  a  handy  pouch  containing  a  quart  or  two 
of  the  food,  which  was  the  woman's  contribu 
tion  to  the  evening  meal.  As  for  the  father, 
he  had  more  to  offer,  as  was  evident  when  the 
cave  was  reached. 

The  man  and  woman  crept  through  the 
narrow  entrance  and  stood  erect  in  a  recess 
in  the  rocks  twenty  feet  square,  at  least,  and 
perhaps  fifteen  feet  in  height.  Looking  up 
ward  one  could  see  a  gleam  of  light  from  the 
outer  world.  The  orifice  through  which  the 
light  came  was  the  chimney,  dug  downward 
with  much  travail  from  the  level  of  the  land 
above.  Directly  underneath  the  opening  was 
the  fireplace,  for  men  had  learned  thoroughly 
the  use  of  fire,  and  had  even  some  fancies  as 
to  getting  rid  of  smoke.  There  were  smold 
ering  embers  upon  the  hearth,  embers  of  the 
hardest  of  wood,  the  wood  which  would  pre 
serve  a  fire  for  the  greatest  length  of  time,  for 
the  cave  man  had  neither  flint  and  steel  nor 
matches,  and  when  a  fire  expired  it  was  a  mat 
ter  of  some  difficulty  to  secure  a  flame  again. 
On  this  occasion  there  was  no  trouble.  The 
embers  were  beaten  up  easily  into  glowing 
coals  and  twigs  and  dry  dead  limbs  cast  upon 
them  made  soon  a  roaring  flame.  As  thf 


22  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

cave  was  lighted  the  proprietor  pointed  laugh 
ingly  to  the  abundance  of  meat  he  had  secured. 
It  was  food  of  the  finest  sort  and  in  such 
quantity  that  even  this  stalwart  being's  strength 
must  have  been  exceptionally  tested  in  bring 
ing  the  burden  to  the  cave.  It  was  something 
in  quality  for  an  epicure  of  the  day  and  there 
was  enough  of  it  to  make  the  cave  man's 
family  easy  for  a  week,  at  least.  It  was  a 
hind  quarter  of  a  wild  horse. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A    FAMILY    DINNER. 

DESPITE  the  hyena  and  baby  incident,  the 
day  had  been  a  satisfactory  one  for  this  cave 
family.  Of  course,  had  the  woman  failed  to 
reach  just  when  she  did  the  hollow  in  which 
her  babe  was  left  there  would  have  come  a 
tragedy  in  the  extinction  of  a  young  and 
promising  cave  child,  and  the  two  would  have 
been  mourning,  as  even  wild  beasts  mourn  for 
their  lost  young.  But  there  was  little  rever 
sion  to  past  possibilities  in  the  minds  of  the 
cave  people.  The  couple  were  not  worrying 
over  what  might  have  been.  The  mother 
had  found  food  of  one  sort  in  abundance,  and 
the  father's  fortune  had  been  royal.  He  had 
tossed  a  rock  from  a  precipice  a  hundred  feet 
in  height  down  into  a  passing  herd  of  the  little 
wild  horses,  and  great  luck  had  followed,  for 
one  of  them  had  been  killed,  and  so  this  was  a 
holiday  in  the  cave.  The  man  and  wife  wore 
at  ease  and  had  each  an  appetite. 

The    nuts    gathered   by   the   woman   were 


*4  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

tossed  in  a  heap  among  the  ashes  and  live 
coals  were  raked  upon  them,  and  the  popping 
which  followed  showed  how  well  they  were 
being  roasted.  A  sturdy  twig,  two  yards  in 
length  and  sharpened  at  the  end,  was  utilized 
by  the  man  in  cooking  the  strips  of  meat  cut 
from  the  haunch  of  the  wild  horse  and  very 
savory  were  the  odors  that  filled  the  cave. 
There  was  the  faint  perfume  of  the  crackling 
nuts  and  there  was  the  fragrant  beneficence  of 
the  broiling  meat.  There  are  no  definite  rec 
ords  upon  the  subject;  the  chef  of  to-day 
can  give  you  no  information  on  the  point,  but 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  a  steak  from 
the  wild  horse  of  the  time  was  something  ad 
mirable.  There  is  a  sort  of  maxim  current  in 
this  age,  in  civilized  rural  communities,  to  the 
effect  that  those  quadrupeds  are  good  to  eat 
which  ' '  chew  the  cud  or  part  the  hoof. "  The 
horse  of  to-day  is  a  creature  with  but  one  toe 
to  each  leg — we  all  know  that — but  the  horse 
of  the  cave  man's  time  had  only  lately  parted 
with  the  split  hoof,  and  so  was  fairly  edible, 
even  according  to  the  modern  standard. 

The  father  and  mother  of  Ab  were  not  more 
than  two  years  past  their  honeymoon.  They, 
in  their  way,  were  glad  that  their  union 


A  FAMILY  DINNER  25 

been  so  blest  and  that  a  lusty  man-child  was 
rolling  about  and  crowing  and  cooing  upon 
the  earthen  floor  of  the  cave.  They  lived 
from  hand  to  mouth,  and  from  day  to  day,  and 
this  day  had  been  a  good  one.  They  were 
there  together,  man,  woman  and  child.  They 
had  warmth  and  food.  The  entrance  to  the 
cave  was  barred  so  that  no  monster  of  the 
period  might  enter.  They  could  eat  and  sleep 
with  a  certainty  of  the  perfect  digestion  which 
followed  such  a  life  as  theirs  and  with  a  cer 
tainty  of  all  peace  for  the  moment.  Even 
the  child  mumbled  heartily,  though  not  yet 
very  strongly,  at  the  delicious  meat  of  the 
little  horse,  and,  the  meal  ended,  the  two  lay 
down  upon  a  mass  of  leaves  which  made  their 
bed,  and  the  child  lay  snuggled  and  warm 
within  reach  of  them.  The  aristocracy  of 
the  time  had  gone  to  sleep. 

There  was  silence  in  the  cave,  but,  outside, 
the  world  was  not  so  still.  The  night  was  not 
always  one  of  silence  in  the  cave  man's  time. 
The  hours  of  darkness  were  those  when  the 
creature  which  walked  upon  two  legs  was  no 
longer  gliding  through  the  forest  with  ready  club 
sr  spear,  and  when  those  creatures  which  used 


26  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

four  legs  instead  of  two,  especially  the  defense 
less,  felt  more  at  ease  than  in  the  daytime. 
The  grass-eating  animals  emerged  from  the 
forest  into  the  plateaus  and  upon  the  low  plains 
along  the  river  side  and  the  flesh-eaters  began 
again  their  hunting.  It  was  a  time  of  wild 
life,  and  of  wild  death,  for  out  of  the  abun 
dance  much  was  taken;  there  were  nightly 
tragedies,  and  the  beasts  of  prey  were  as  glut 
ted  as  the  urus  or  the  elk  which  fed  on  the 
sweet  grasses.  It  was  but  a  matter  of  differ 
ence  in  diet  and  in  the  manner  of  doing  away 
with  one  life  which  must  be  sacrificed  to  sup 
port  another.  There  was  liveliness  at  night 
with  the  queer  thing,  man,  out  of  the  way, 
and  brutes  and  beasts  of  many  sorts,  taking 
their  chances  together,  were  happier  with  him 
absent.  They  could  not  understand  him,  and 
liked  him  not,  though  the  great-clawed  and 
sharp-toothed  ones  had  a  vast  desire  to  eat 
him.  He  was  a  disturbing  element  in  the 
community  of  the  plain  and  forest. 

And,  while  all  this  play  of  life  and  death 
went  on  outside,  the  three  people,  the  man, 
woman  and  child,  in  the  cave  slept  as  soundly 
as  sleep  the  drunken  or  the  just.  They  were 
full-fed  and  warm  and  safe.  No  beast  of  a 


A  FAMILY  DINNER  27 

size  greater  than  that  of  a  lank  wolf  or  sinewy 
wildcat  could  enter  the  cave  through  the  nar 
row  entrance  between  the  heaped-up  rocks, 
and  of  these,  as  of  any  other  dangerous  beast, 
there  was  none  which  would  face  what  barred 
even  the  narrow  passage,  for  it  was  fire.  Just 
at  the  entrance  the  all-night  fire  of  knots  and 
hardest  wood  smoked,  flamed  and  smoldered 
and  flickered,  and  then  flamed  again,  and  held 
the  passageway  securely.  No  animal  that 
ever  lived,  save  man,  has  ever  dared  the  touch 
of  fire.  It  was  the  cave  man's  guardian. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

AB    AND    OAK. 

SUCH  were  the  father  and  mother  of  Ab, 
and  such  was  the  boy  himself.  His  surround 
ings  have  not  been  indicated  with  all  the 
definiteness  desirable,  because  of  the  lack  of 
certain  data,  but,  in  a  general  way,  the  degree 
of  his  birth,  the  manner  of  his  rearing  and  the 
natural  aspects  of  his  estate  have  been  de 
scribed.  That  the  young  man  had  a  promis 
ing  future  could  not  admit  of  doubt.  He  was 
the  first-born  of  an  important  family  of  a 
great  race  and  his  inheritance  had  no  bound 
aries.  Just  where  the  possessions  of  the  Ab 
family  began  or  where  they  terminated  no  bird 
nor  beast  nor  human  being  could  tell.  The 
estates  of  the  family  extended  from  the  Medi 
terranean  to  the  Arctic  Ocean  and  there  were 
no  dividing  lines.  Of  course,  something  de 
pended  upon  the  existence  or  non-existence  of 
a  stronger  cave  family  somewhere  else,  but 
that  mattered  not.  And  the  babe  grew  into 
a  sturdy  youth,  just  as  grow  the  boys  of  to- 

•8 


AB  AND  OAK  29 

day,  and  had  his  friendships  and  adventures. 
He  did  not  attend  the  public  schools — the 
school  system  was  what  might  reasonably  be 
termed  inefficient  in  his  time — nor  did  he  at 
tend  a  private  school,  for  the  private  schools 
were  weak,  as  well,  but  he  did  attend  the 
great  school  of  Nature  from  the  moment  he 
opened  his  eyes  in  the  morning  until  he  closed 
them  at  night.  Of  his  schoolboy  days  and 
his  friendships  and  his  various  affairs,  this  is 
the  immediate  story. 

The  father  and  mother  of  Ab  as  has,  it  is 
hoped,  been  made  apparent,  were  strong 
people,  intelligent  up  to  the  grade  of  the 
time  and  worthy  of  regard  in  many  ways. 
The  two  could  fairly  hold  their  own,  not  only 
against  the  wild  beasts,  but  against  any  other 
cave  pair,  should  the  emergency  arise.  They 
had  names,  of  course.  The  name  of  Ab's 
father  was  One-Ear,  the  sequence  of  an  inci 
dent  occurring  when  he  was  very  young,  an 
accidental  and  too  intimate  acquaintance  with 
a  species  of  wildcat  which  infested  the  region 
and  from  which  the  babe  had  been  rescued 
none  too  soon.  The  name  of  Ab's  mother  was 
Red-Spot,  and  she  had  been  so  called  because 
of  a  not  unsightly  but  conspicuous  birthmark 


30  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

appearing  on  her  left  shoulder.  As  to  ances 
try,  Ab's  father  could  distinctly  remember  his 
own  grandfather  as  the  old  gentleman  had 
appeared  just  previous  to  his  consumption  by 
a  monstrous  bear,  and  Red-Spot  had  some 
vague  remembrance  of  her  own  grandmother. 
As  for  Ab's  own  name,  it  came  from  no  per 
sonal  mark  or  peculiarity  or  as  the  result  of 
any  particular  incident  of  his  babyhood.  It 
was  merely  a  convenient  adaptation  by  his 
parents  of  a  childish  expression  of  his  own,  a 
labial  attempt  to  say  something.  His  mother 
had  mimicked  his  babyish  prattlings,  the  father 
had  laughed  over  the  mimicry,  and,  almost 
unconsciously,  they  referred  to  their  baby 
afterward  as  "Ab,"  until  it  grew  into  a  name 
which  should  be  his  for  life.  There  was  no 
formal  early  naming  of  a  child  in  those  days; 
the  name  eventually  made  itself,  and  that  was 
all  there  was  to  it.  There  was,  for  instance, 
a  child  living  not  many  miles  away,  destined 
to  be  a  future  playmate  and  ally  of  Ab,  who, 
though  of  nearly  the  same  age,  had  not  yet 
been  named  at  all.  His  title,  when  he  finally 
attained  it,  was  merely  Oak.  This  was  not 
because  he  was  straight  as  an  oak,  or  because 
he  had  an  acorn  birthmark,  but  because  ad- 


AB  AND  OAK  31 

joining  the  cave  where  he  was  born  stood  a 
great  oak  with  spreading  limbs,  from  one  of 
which  was  dangled  a  rude  cradle,  into  which 
the  babe  was  tied,  and  where  he  would  be 
safe  from  all  attacks  during  the  absence  of  his 
parents  on  such  occasions  as  they  did  not  wish 
the  burden  of  carrying  him  about.  "  Rock-a- 
by-baby  upon  the  tree-top  "  was  often  a  reality 
in  the  time  of  the  cave  men. 

Ab  was  fortunate  in  being  born  at  a  reason 
ably  comfortable  stage  of  the  world's  history. 
He  had  a  decent  prospect  as  to  clothing  and 
shelter,  and  there  was  abundance  of  food  for 
those  brave  enough  or  ingenious  enough  to 
win  it.  The  climate  was  not  enervating. 
There  were  cold  times  for  the  people  of  the 
epoch  and,  in  their  seasons,  harsh  and  chill 
ing  winds  swept  over  bare  and  chilling  gla 
ciers,  though  a  semi-tropical  landscape  was  all 
about.  So  suddenly  had  come  the  change 
from  frigid  cold  to  moderate  warmth,  that 
the  vast  fields  of  ice  once  moving  southward 
were  not  thawed  to  their  utmost  depths 
even  when  rank  vegetation  and  a  teeming  life 
had  sprung  up  in  the  now  European  area,  and 
so  it  came  that,  in  some  places,  cold,  white 
monuments  and  glittering  plateaus  still  showed 


32  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

themselves  amid  the  forest  and  fed  the  tum 
bling  streams  which  made  the  rivers  rushing  to 
the  ocean.  There  were  days  of  bitter  cold  in 
winter  and  sultry  heat  in  summer. 

It  may  fairly  be  borne  in  mind  of  this  child 
Ab  that  he  was  somewhat  different  from  the 
child  of  to-day,  and  nearer  the  quadruped  in 
his  manner  of  swift  development.  The  puppy 
though  delinquent  in  the  matter  of  opening  it's 
eyes,  waddles  clumsily  upon  its  legs  very  early 
in  its  career.  Ab,  of  course,  had  his  eyes 
open  from  the  beginning,  and  if  the  babe  of 
to-day  were  to  stand  upright  as  soon  as  Ab 
did,  his  mother  would  be  the  proudest  creature 
going  and  his  father,  at  the  club,  would  be  a 
thing  intolerable.  It  must  be  admitted,  though, 
that  neither  One-Ear  nor  Red-Spot  manifested 
an  extraordinary  degree  of  enthusiasm  over 
the  precociousness  of  their  first-born.  He  was 
not,  for  the  time,  remarkable,  and  parents  of 
the  day  were  less  prone  than  now  to  spoiling 
children.  Ab's  layette  had  been  of  beech 
leaves,  his  bed  had  been  of  beech  leaves, 
and  a  beech  twig,  supple  and  stinging,  had 
already  been  applied  to  him  when  he  mis 
behaved  himself.  As  he  grew  older  his  ac 
quaintance  with  it  would  be  more  familiar 


AB  AND  OAK  33 

Strict  disciplinarians  in  their  way,  though 
affectionate  enough  after  their  own  fashion, 
were  the  parents  of  the  time. 

The  existence  of  this  good  family  of  the  day 
continued  without  dire  misadventure.  Ab  at 
nine  years  of  age  was  a  fine  boy.  There 
could  be  no  question  about  that.  He  was  as 
strong  as  a  young  gibbon,  and,  it  must  be  ad 
mitted,  in  certain  characteristics  would  have 
conveyed  to  the  learned  observer  of  to-day  a 
suggestion  of  that  same  animal.  His  eyes 
were  bright  and  keen  and  his  mouth  and  nose 
were  worth  looking  at.  His  nose  was  broad, 
with  nostrils  aggressively  prominent,  and  as 
for  his  mouth,  it  was  what  would  be  called 
to-day  excessively  generous  in  its  proportions 
for  a  boy  of  his  size.  But  it  did  not  lack  ex 
pression.  His  lips  could  quiver  at  times,  or 
become  firmly  set,  and  there  was  very  much 
of  what  might,  even  then,  be  called  '  'manli 
ness"  in  the  general  bearing  of  the  sturdy  little 
cave  child.  He  had  never  cried  much  when 
a  babe — cave  children  were  not  much  addicted 
to  crying,  save  when  very  hungry — and  he 
had  grown  to  his  present  stature,  which  was 
not  very  great,  with  a  healthfulness  and  gen 
eral  manner  of  buoyancy  all  the  time.  He 
I 


34  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

was  as  rugged  a  child  of  his  age  as  could  be 
found  between  the  shore  that  lay  long  leagues 
westward  of  what  is  now  the  western  point  of 
Ireland  and  anywhere  into  middle  Europe. 
He  had  begun  to  have  feelings  and  hopes  and 
ambitions,  too.  He  had  found  what  his  sur 
roundings  meant.  He  had  at  least  done  one 
thing  well.  He  had  made  well-received  ad 
vances  toward  a  friend;  and  a  friend  is  a 
great  thing  for  a  boy,  when  he  is  another  boy 
of  about  the  same  age.  This  friendship  was 
not  quite  commonplace. 

Ab,  who  could  climb  like  a  young  monkey, 
laid  most  casually  the  foundation  for  this 
companionship  which  was  to  affect  his  future 
life.  He  had  scrambled,  one  day,  up  a  tree 
standing  near  the  cave,  and,  climbing  out 
along  a  limb  near  its  top,  had  found  a  com 
fortable  resting-place,  and  there  upon  the 
swaying  bough  was  '  'teetering"  comfortably, 
when  something  in  another  tree,  further  up 
the  river,  caught  his  sharp  eye.  It  was  a 
dark  mass, — it  might  have  been  anything 
caught  in  a  treetop, — but  the  odd  part  of  it 
was  that  it  was  "teetering"  just  as  he  was. 
Ab  watched  the  object  for  a  long  time  curi 
ously,  and  finally  decided  that  it  must  be  an* 


AB  AND  OAK  35 

other  boy,  or  perhaps  a  girl,  who  was  swaying 
in  the  distant  tree.  There  came  to  him  a  vig 
orous  thought.  He  resolved  to  become  better 
acquainted;  he  resolved  dimly,  for  this  was 
the  first  time  that  any  idea  of  further  affilia 
tion  with  anyone  had  come  into  his  youthful 
mind.  Of  course,  it  must  not  be  understood 
that  he  had  been  in  absolute  retirement 
throughout  his  young  but  not  uneventful  life. 
Other  cave  men  and  women,  sometimes  ac 
companied  by  their  children,  had  visited  the 
cave  of  One-Ear  and  Red-Spot  and  Ab  had 
become  somewhat  acquainted  with  other  hu 
man  beings  and  with  what  were  then  the 
usages  of  the  best  hungry  society.  He  had 
never,  though,  become  really  familiar  with 
anyone  save  his  father  and  mother  and  the 
children  which  his  mother  had  borne  after 
him,  a  boy  and  a  girl.  This  particular  after 
noon  a  sudden  boyish  yearning  came  upon 
him.  He  wanted  to  know  who  the  youth 
might  be  who  was  swinging  in  the  distant  tree. 
He  was  a  resolute  young  cub,  and  to  deter 
mine  was  to  act. 

It  was  rare,  particularly  in  the  wooded  dis 
tricts  of  the  country  of  the  cave  men,  for  a 
boy  of  nine  to  go  a  mile  from  home  alone. 


36  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

There  was  danger  lurking  in  every  rod  and 
rood,  and,  naturally,  such  a  boy  would  not  be 
versed  in  all  woodcraft,  nor  have  the  neces 
sary  strength  of  arm  for  a  long  arboreal 
journey,  swinging  himself  along  beneath  the 
intermingling  branches  of  close-standing  trees. 
So  this  departure  was,  for  Ab,  a  venture  some 
thing  out  of  the  common.  But  he  was  strong 
for  his  age,  and  traversed  rapidly  a  consider 
able  distance  through  the  treetops  in  the  di 
rection  of  what  he  saw.  Once  or  twice,  though, 
there  came  exigencies  of  leaping  and  grasping 
aloft  to  which  he  felt  himself  unequal,  and 
then,  plucky  boy  as  he  was,  he  slid  down  the 
bole  of  the  tree  and,  looking  about  cautiously, 
made  a  dash  across  some  little  glade  and 
climbed  again.  He  had  traversed  little  more 
than  half  the  distance  toward  the  object  he 
sought  when  his  sharp  ears  caught  the  sound 
of  rustling  leaves  ahead  of  him.  He  slipped 
behind  the  trunk  of  the  tree  into  whose  top  he 
was  clambering  and  then,  reaching  out  his 
head,  peered  forward  warily.  As  he  thus 
ensconced  himself,  the  sound  he  had  heard 
ceased  suddenly.  It  was  odd.  The  boy  was 
perplexed  and  somewhat  anxious.  He  could 
but  peer  and  peer  and  remain  absolutely  quiet. 


AB  AND  OAK  37 

At  last  his  searching  watchfulness  was  re 
warded.  He  saw  a  brown  protuberance  on 
the  side  of  a  great  tree,  above  where  the 
branches  began,  not  twoscore  yards  distant 
from  him,  and  that  brown  protuberance  moved 
slightly.  It  was  evident  that  the  protuber 
ance  was  watching  him  as  he  was  watching  it. 
He  realized  what  it  meant.  There  was  an 
other  boy  there!  He  was  not  particularly 
afraid  of  another  boy  and  at  once  came  out  of 
hiding.  The  other  boy  came  calmly  into  view 
as  well.  They  sat  there,  looking  at  each 
other,  each  at  ease  upon  a  great  branch,  each 
with  an  arm  sustaining  himself,  each  with  his 
little  brown  legs  dangling  carelessly,  and  each 
gazing  upon  the  other  with  bright  eyes  evinc 
ing  alike  watchfulness  and  curiosity  and  some 
suspicion.  So  they  sat,  perched  easily,  these 
excellent  young,  monkeyish  boys  of  the  time, 
each  waiting  for  the  other  to  begin  the  con 
versation,  just  as  two  boys  wait  when  they 
thus  meet  to-day.  Their  talk  would  not  per 
haps  be  intelligible  to  any  professor  of  lan 
guages  in  all  the  present  world,  but  it  was  a 
language,  however  limited  its  vocabulary, 
which  sufficed  for  the  needs  of  the  men  and 


38  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

women  and  children  of  the  cave  time.      It  was 
Ab  who  first  broke  the  silence: 

"Who  are  you?"  he  said. 

"I  am  Oak,"  responded  the  other  boy. 
"Who  are  you?" 

"Me?     Oh,  I  am  Ab." 

"Where  do  you  come  from?" 

"From  the  cave  by  the  beeches;  and  where 
do  you  come  from?" 

"I  come  from  the  cave  where  the  river 
turns,  and  I  am  not  afraid  <5f  you." 

'I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  either,"  said  Ab. 

' '  Let  us  climb  down  and  get  upon  that  big 
rock  and  throw  stones  at  things  in  the  water," 
said  Oak. 

1  'All  right,"  said  Ab. 

And  the  two  slid,  one  after  the  other,  down 
the  great  tree  trunks  and  ran  rapidly  to  the 
base  of  a  huge  rock  overtopping  the  river,  and 
with  sides  almost  perpendicular,  but  with  crev 
ices  and  projections  which  enabled  the  expert 
youngsters  to  ascend  it  with  ease.  There  was 
a  little  plateau  upon  its  top  a  few  yards  in  area 
and,  once  established  there,  the  boys  were 
safe  from  prowling  beasts.  And  this  was  the 
manner  of  the  first  meeting  of  two  who  were 
destined  to  grow  to  manhood  together,  to  be 


AB  AND  OAK  39 

good  companions  and  have  full  young  lives, 
howbeit  somewhat  exciting  at  times,  and  to 
affect  each  other  for  joy  and  sorrow,  and  good 
and  bad,  and  all  that  makes  the  quality  of 
being. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A   GREAT     ENTERPRISE. 

WHAT  always  happens  when  two  boys  not 
yet  fairly  in  their  'teens  meet,  at  first  aggress 
ively,  and  then,  each  gradually  overcoming 
this  apprehension  of  the  other,  decide  upon  a 
close  acquaintance  and  long  comradeship? 
Their  talk  is  firmly  optimistic  and  they  con 
stitute  much  of  the  world.  As  for  Ab  and 
Oak,  when  there  had  come  to  them  an  ease 
in  conversation,  there  dawned  gradually  upon 
each  the  idea  that,  next  to  himself,  the  other 
was  probably  the  most  important  personage 
in  the  world,  fitting  companion  and  confeder 
ate  of  a  boy  who  in  an  incredibly  short  space 
of  time  was  going  to  become  a  man  and  do 
things  on  a  tremendous  scale.  Seated  upon 
the  rock,  a  point  of  ease  and  vantage,  they 
talked  long  of  what  two  boys  might  do,  and 
so  earnest  did  they  become  in  considering 
their  possible  great  exploits  that  Ab  demanded 
of  Oak  that  he  go  with  him  to  his  home. 
This  was  a  serious  matter.  It  wa^  a  no  slight 
40 


A  GREAT  ENTERPRISE  41 

thing  for  a  boy  of  that  day,  allowed  a  play 
ground  within  certain  limits  adjacent  to  his 
cave  home,  to  venture  far  away;  but  this  in 
Oak's  life  was  a  great  occasion.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  ever  met  and  talked  with  a 
boy  of  his  age,  and  he  became  suddenly  reck 
less,  assenting  promptly  to  Ab's  proposal. 
They  ran  along  the  forest  paths  together  to 
ward  Ab's  cave,  clucking  in  their  queer  lan 
guage  and  utilizing  in  that  short  journey  most 
of  the  brief  vocabulary  of  the  day  in  antici 
patory  account  of  what  they  were  going  to  do. 
Ab's  father  and  mother  rather  approved  of 
Oak.  They  even  went  so  far  as  to  consent 
that  Ab  might  pay  a  return  visit  upon  the  suc 
ceeding  day,  though  it  was  stipulated  that  the 
father — and  this  was  a  demand  the  mother 
made — should  accompany  the  boy  upon  most 
of  the  journey.  One-Ear  knew  Oak's  father 
very  well.  Oak's  father,  Stripe-Face,  was  a 
man  of  standing  in  the  widely-scattered  com 
munity.  Stripe-Face  was  so  called  because  in 
a  casual,  and,  on  his  part,  altogether  unin 
vited  encounter  with  a  cave  bear  when  he  was 
a  young  man,  a  sweep  of  the  claws  of  his  ad 
versary  had  plowed  furrows  down  one  cheek, 
leaving  scars  thereafter  which  were  livid 


42  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

streaks.  One-Ear  and  Stripe-Face  were  good 
friends.  Sometimes  they  hunted  together; 
they  had  fought  together,  and  it  was  nothing 
out  of  the  way,  and  but  natural,  that  Ab  and 
Oak  should  become  companions.  So  it  came 
that  One-Ear  went  across  the  forest  with  his 
boy  the  next  day  and  visited  the  cave  of 
Stripe-Face,  and  that  the  two  young  cubs  went 
out  together  buoyant  and  in  conquering  mood, 
while  the  grown  men  planned  something  for 
their  own  advantage.  Certainly  the  boys 
matched  well.  A  finer  pair  of  youngsters  of 
eight  or  nine  years  of  age  could  hardly  be  imag 
ined  than  these  two  who  sallied  forth  that  after 
noon.  They  send  very  fine  boys  nowadays 
to  our  great  high  schools  in  the  United  States, 
and  to  Rugby  and  Eaton  and  Harrow  in  Eng 
land,  but  never  went  forth  a  finer  pair  to 
learn  things.  No  smattering  of  letters  or  lore 
of  any  printed  sort  had  these  rugged  youths, 
but  their  eyes  were  piercing  as  those  of  the 
eagle,  the  grip  of  their  hands  was  strong,  their 
pace  was  swift  when  they  ran  upon  the  ground 
and  their  course  almost  as  rapid  when  they 
swung  along  the  treetops.  They  were  self-pos 
sessed  and  ready  and  alert  and  prepared  to  pass 
an  examination  for  admission  to  any  university 


A  GREAT  ENTERPRISE  43 

of  the  time;  that  is,  to  any  of  Nature's  univer 
sities,  where  matriculation  depended  upon 
prompt  conception  of  existing  dangers  and  the 
ways  of  avoiding  them,  and  of  all  adroitness 
in  attainments  which  gave  food  and  shelter 
and  safety.  Eh!  but  they  were  a  gallant 
pair,  these  two  young  gentlemen  who  burst 
forth,  owning  the  world  entirely  and  feeling 
a  serene  confidence  in  their  ability,  united,  to 
maintain  their  rights.  And  their  ambitions 
soon  took  a  definite  turn.  They  decided  that 
they  must  kill  a  horse! 

The  wild  horse  of  the  time,  already  referred 
to  as  esteemed  for  his  edible  qualities,  was, 
in  the  opinion  of  the  cave  people,  but  of 
moderate  value  otherwise.  He  was  abun 
dant,  ranging  in  herds  of  hundreds  along  the 
pampas  of  the  great  Thames  valley,  and  fur 
nished  forth  abundant  food  for  man  as  well 
as  the  wild  beasts,  when  they  could  capture 
him.  His  skin,  though,  was  not  counted  of 
much  worth.  Its  short  hair  afforded  little 
warmth  in  cloak  or  breech-clout,  and  the 
tanned  pelt  became  hard  and  uncomfortable 
when  it  dried  after  a  wetting.  Still,  there 
were  various  uses  for  this  horse's  hide.  It 
made  fine  strings  and  thongs,  and  the  beast's 


44  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

flesh,  as  has  been  said,  was  a  staple  of  the 
larder.  The  first  great  resolve  of  Ab  and 
Oak,  these  two  gallant  soldiers  of  fortune, 
was  that,  alone  and  unaided,  they  would  cir 
cumvent  and  slay  one  of  these  wild  horses, 
thereby  astonishing  their  respective  families, 
at  the  same  time  gaining  the  means  for  fill 
ing  the  stomachs  of  those  families  to  reple 
tion,  and  altogether  covering  themselves  with 
glory. 

Not  in  a  day  nor  in  a  week  were  the  plans 
of  these  youthful  warriors  and  statesmen  ma 
tured.  The  wild  horse  had  long  since  learned 
that  the  creature  man  was  as  dangerous  to  it 
as  were  any  of  the  fierce  four-footed  animals 
which  hunted  it,  and  its  scent  was  good  and 
its  pace  was  swift  and  it  went  in  herds  and 
avoided  doubtful  places.  Not  so  easy  a  task 
as  it  might  seem  was  that  which  Ab  and  Oak 
had  resolved  upon.  There  must  be  some  elab 
orate  device  to  attain  their  end,  but  they  were 
confident.  They  had  noted  often  what  older 
hunters  did,  and  they  felt  themselves  as  good 
as  anybody.  They  plotted  long  and  earnestly 
and  even  made  a  mental  distribution  of  their 
quarry,  deciding  what  should  be  done  with  its 
skin  and  with  its  meat,  far  in  advance  of  any 


A  GREAT  ENTERPRISE  45 

determination  upon  a  plan  for  its  capture  and 
destruction.     They  were  boys. 

There  was  no  objection  from  the  parents. 
They  knew  that  the  boys  must  learn  to  be 
come  hunters,  and  if  the  two  were  not  now 
capable  of  taking  care  of  themselves  in  the 
wood,  then  they  were  but  disappointing  off 
spring.  Consent  secured,  the  boys  acted  en 
tirely  upon  their  own  responsibility,  and,  to 
make  their  subsequent  plans  clearer,  it  may 
be  well  to  explain  a  little  more  of  the  geog 
raphy  of  the  region.  The  cave  of  Ab  was  on 
the  north  side  of  the  stream,  where  the  rocky 
banks  came  close  together  with  a  little  beach 
at  either  side,  and  the  cave  of  Oak  was  per 
haps  a  mile  to  the  westward,  on  the  same  side 
of  the  stream  and  with  very  similar  surround 
ings.  On  the  south  side  of  the  river,  opposite 
the  high  banks  between  the  two  caves,  the 
land  was  a  prairie  valley  reaching  far  away. 
On  the  north  side  as  well  there  was  at  one 
place  a  little  valley,  but  it  reached  back  only 
a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  river  and  was 
surrounded  by  the  forest-crowned  hills.  The 
close  standing  oaks  and  beeches  afforded,  in 
emergency,  a  highway  among  their  branches, 
and  along  this  pathway  the  boys  were  compar- 


46  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

atively  safe.  Either  could  climb  a  tree  at  any 
time,  and  of  the  animals  that  were  dangerous  in 
the  treetops  there  were  but  few;  in  fact,  there 
was  only  one  of  note,  a  tawny,  cat-like  crea 
ture,  not  numerous,  and  resembling  the  lynx 
of  the  present  day.  Almost  in  the  midst  of 
the  little  plain  or  valley,  on  the  north  side  of 
the  river,  rose  a  clump  of  trees,  and  in  this  the 
two  boys  saw  means  afforded  them  for  a  reali 
zation  of  their  hopes.  The  wild  horses  fed 
daily  in  the  valley  to  the  north,  as  in  the 
greater  one  to  the  south  of  the  river.  But 
there  also,  in  the  high  grass,  as  upon  the  south, 
sometimes  lurked  the  great  beasts  of  prey,  and 
to  be  far  away  from  a  tree  upon  the  plain  was 
an  unsafe  thing  for  a  cave  man.  From  the 
forest  edge  to  the  clump  of  trees  was  not  more 
than  two  minutes'  rush  for  a  vigorous  boy  and 
it  was  this  fact  which  suggested  to  the  youths 
their  plan  of  capture  of  the  horse. 

The  homes  of  the  cave  men  were  located, 
when  possible,  where  the  refuge  of  safety  over 
hung  closely  the  river's  bank,  and  where  the 
non-climbing  animals  must  pass  along  beneath 
them,  but,  even  at  that  period  of  few  men  and 
abundant  animal  life,  there  had  developed  an 
acuteness  among  the  weaker  beasts,  and  they 


A  GREAT  ENTERPRISE  47 

had  learned  to  avoid  certain  paths  that  had 
proved  fatal  to  their  brethren.  They  were 
numerous  in  the  plains  and  comparatively 
careless  there,  relying  upon  their  speed  to 
escape  more  dangerous  wild  beasts,  but  they 
passed  rarely  beneath  the  ledges,  where  a 
weighty  rock  dropped  suddenly  meant  certain 
death.  It  was  not  a  task  entirely  easy  for  the 
cave  men  to  have  meat  with  regularity,  flush 
as  was  the  life  about  them.  New  devices 
must  be  resorted  to,  and  Ab  and  Oak  were 
about  to  employ  one  not  infrequently  suc 
cessful. 

The  clam  of  the  period,  particularly  the 
clam  along  this  reach  of  the  upper  Thames, 
was  a  marvel  in  his  make-up.  He  was  as 
large  as  he  was  luscious,  as  abundant  as  he 
was  both  and  was  a  great  feature  in  the  food 
supply  of  the  time.  Not  merely  was  he  a 
feature  in  the  food  supply,  but  in  a  mechanical 
way,  and  the  first  object  sought  by  the  boys, 
after  their  plan  had  been  agreed  upon,  was 
the  shell  of  the  great  clam.  They  had  no 
difficulty  in  securing  what  they  wanted,  for 
strewn  all  about  each  cave  were  the  big  shells 
in  abundance.  Sharp-edged,  firm-backed,  one 
of  these  shells  made  an  admirable  little  shovel. 


48  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

something  with  which  to  cut  the  turf  and 
throw  up  the  soil,  a  most  useful  implement  in 
the  hands  of  the  river  haunting  people.  The 
idea  of  the  youngsters  was  simply  this:  Their 
rendezvous  should  be  at  that  point  in  the  forest 
nearest  the  clump  of  trees  standing  solitary  in 
the  valley  below.  They  would  select  the  safest 
hours  and  then  from  the  high  ground  make  a 
sudden  dash  to  the  tree  clump.  They  would 
be  watchful,  of  course,  and  seek  to  avoid  the 
class  of  animals  for  whom  boys  made  admir 
able  luncheon.  Once  at  the  clump  of  trees 
and  safely  ensconced  among  the  branches,  they 
could  determine  wisely  upon  the  next  step  in 
their  adventure.  They  were  very  knowing, 
these  young  men,  for  they  had  observed  their 
elders.  What  they  wanted  to  do,  what  was 
the  end  and  aim  of  all  this  recklessness,  was 
to  dig  a  pit  in  this  rich  valley  land  close  to  the 
clump  of  trees,  a  pit  say  some  ten  feet  in 
length  by  six  feet  in  breadth  and  seven  or 
eight  feet  in  depth.  That  meant  a  gigantic 
labor.  Gillian,  of  "The  Toilers  of  the  Sea," 
assigned  to  himself  hardly  a  greater  task. 
These  were  boys  of  the  cave  kind  and  must, 
perforce,  conduct  themselves  originally.  As 
to  the  details  of  the  plan,  well,  they  were  onbf 


A  GREAT  ENTERPRISE  45 

vague,  as  yet,  but  rapidly  assuming  a  form 
more  definite. 

The  first  thing  essential  for  the  boys  was  to 
reach  the  clump  of  trees.  It  was  just  before 
noon  one  day  when  they  swung  together  on  a 
tree  branch  sweeping  nearly  to  the  ground, 
and  at  a  point  upon  the  hill  directly  opposite 
the  clump.  This  was  the  time  selected  for 
their  first  dash.  They  studied  every  square 
yard  of  the  long  grass  of  the  little  valley  with 
anxious  eyes.  In  the  distance  was  feeding  a 
small  drove  of  wild  horses  and,  farther  away, 
close  by  the  river  side,  upreared  occasionally 
what  might  be  the  antlers  of  the  great  elk  of 
the  period.  Between  the  boys  and  the  clump 
of  trees  there  was  no  movement  of  the  grass, 
nor  any  sign  of  life.  They  could  discern  no 
trace  of  any  lurking  beast. 

''Are  you  afraid?"  asked  Ab. 

"Not  if  we  run  together." 

"All  right,"  said  Ab;  "let's  go  it  with  a 
rush." 

The  slim  brown  bodies  dropped  lightly  to 
the  ground  together,  each  of  the  boys  clasping 
one  of  the  clamshells.  Side  by  side  they 
darted  down  the  slope  and  across  through  the 
deep  grass  until  the  clump  of  trees  was  reached, 


50  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

when,  like  two  young  apes,  they  scrambled 
into  the  safety  of  the  branches. 

The  tree  up  which  they  had  clambered  was 
the  largest  of  the  group  and  of  dense  foliage. 
It  was  one  of  the  huge  conifers  of  the  age,  but 
its  branches  extended  to  within  perhaps  thirty 
feet  of  the  ground,  and  from  the  greatest  of 
these  side  branches  reached  out,  growing  so 
close  together  as  to  make  almost  a  platform. 
It  was  but  the  work  of  a  half  hour  for  these 
boys,  with  their  arboreal  gifts,  to  twine  addi 
tional  limbs  together  and  to  construct  for 
themselves  a  solid  nest  and  lookout  where 
they  might  rest  at  ease,  at  a  distance  above 
the  greatest  leap  of  any  beast  existing.  In 
this  nest  they  curled  themselves  down  and, 
after  much  clucking  debate,  formulated  their 
plan  of  operation.  Only  one  boy  should  dig 
at  a  time,  the  other  must  remain  in  the  nest 
as  a  lookout. 

Swift  to  act  in  tiiose  days  were  men,  be 
cause  necessity  had  made  it  a  habit  to  them, 
and  swifter  still,  as  a  matter  of  course,  were 
impulsive  boys.  Their  tree  nest  fairly  made, 
work,  they  decided,  must  begin  at  once.  The 
only  point  to  be  determined  upon  was  regard 
ing  the  location  of  the  pit.  There  was  3 


A  GREAT  ENTERPRISE  5 1 

tempting  spread  of  green  herbage  some  hun 
dred  feet  to  the  north  and  east  of  the  tree,  a 
place  where  the  grass  was  high  but  not  so 
high  as  it  was  elsewhere.  It  had  been  grazed 
already  by  the  wandering  horses  and  it  was 
likely  that  they  would  visit  the  tempting  area 
again.  There,  it  was  finally  settled,  should 
the  pit  be  dug.  It  was  quite  a  distance  from 
the  tree,  but  the  increased  chances  of  securing 
a  wild  horse  by  making  the  pit  in  that  partic 
ular  place  more  than  offset,  in  the  estimation 
of  the  boys,  the  added  danger  of  a  longer  run 
for  safety  in  an  emergency.  The  only  ques 
tion  remaining  was  as  to  who  should  do  the 
first  digging  and  who  be  the  first  lookout? 
There  was  a  violent  debate  upon  this  subject. 

"I  will  go  and  dig  and  you  shall  keep 
watch,"  said  Oak. 

"No,  I'll  dig  and  you  shall  watch,"  was 
Ab's  response.  "I  can  run  faster  than  you." 

Oak  hesitated  and  was  reluctant.  He  was 
sturdy,  this  young  gentleman,  but  Ab  pos 
sessed,  somehow,  the  mastering  spirit.  It  was 
settled  finally  that  Ab  should  dig  and  Oak 
should  watch.  And  so  Ab  slid  down  the  tree, 
clamshell  in  hand,  and  began  laboring  vigor 
ously  at  the  spot  agreed  upon. 


52  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

It  was  not  a  difficult  task  for  a  strong  boy 
to  cut  through  tough  grass  roots  with  the  keen 
edge  of  the  clamshell.  He  outlined  roughly 
and  rapidly  the  boundaries  of  the  pit  to  be 
dug  and  then  began  chopping  out  sods  just  as 
the  workman  preparing  to  garnish  some  park 
or  lawn  begins  his  work  to-day.  Meanwhile, 
Oak,  all  eyes,  was  peering  in  every  direction. 
His  place  was  one  of  great  responsibility,  and 
he  recognized  the  fact.  It  was  a  tremendous 
moment  for  the  youngsters. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A   DANGEROUS   VISITOR. 

IT  was  not  alone  necessary  for  the  plans  of 
Ab  and  Oak  that  there  should  be  made  a  deep 
hole  in  the  ground.  It  was  quite  as  essential 
for  their  purposes  that  the  earth  removed 
should  not  be  visible  upon  the  adjacent  sur 
face.  The  location  of  the  pit,  as  has  been 
explained,  was  some  yards  to  the  northeast 
of  the  tree  in  which  the  lookout  had  been 
made.  A  few  yards  southwest  of  the  tree 
was  a  slight  declivity  and  damp  hollow,  for 
from  that  point  the  land  sloped  in  a  reed- 
grown  marsh  toward  the  river.  It  was  de 
cided  to  throw  into  this  marsh  all  the  exca 
vated  soil,  and  so,  when  Ab  had  outlined  the 
pit  and  cut  up  its  surface  into  sods,  he  carried 
them  one  by  one  to  the  bank  and  cast  them 
down  among  the  reeds  where  the  water  still 
made  little  puddles.  In  time  of  flood  the 
river  spread  out  into  a  lake,  reaching  even  as 
far  as  here.  The  sod  removed,  there  was 
exposed  a  rectangle  of  black  soil,  for  the 

53 


54  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

earth  was  of  alluvial  deposit  and  easy  of  dig 
ging.  Shellful  after  shellful  of  the  dirt  did 
Ab  carry  from  where  the  pit  was  to  be,  trot 
ting  patiently  back  and  forth,  but  the  work 
was  wearisome  and  there  was  a  great  waste 
of  energy.  It  was  Oak  who  gave  an  inspira 
tion. 

"We  must  carry  more  at  a  time,"  he  called 
out.  And  then  he  tossed  down  to  Ab  a  wolf 
skin  which  had  been  given  him  by  his  father 
as  a  protection  on  cold  nights  and  which  he 
had  brought  along,  tied  about  his  waist,  quite 
incidentally,  for,  ordinarily,  these  boys  wore 
no  clothing  in  warm  weather.  Clothing,  in 
the  cave  time,  appertained  only  to  manhood 
and  womanhood,  save  in  winter.  But  Oak 
had  brought  the  skin  along  because  he  had 
noticed  a  vast  acorn  crop  upon  his  way  to  and 
from  the  rendezvous  and  had  in  mind  to  carry 
back  to  his  own  home  cave  some  of  the  nuts. 
The  pelt  was  now  to  serve  an  immediately 
useful  purpose. 

Spreading  the  skin  upon  the  grass  beside 
him,  Ab  heaped  it  with  the  dirt  until  there 
had  accumulated  as  much  as  he  could  carry, 
when,  gathering  the  corners  together,  he 
struggled  with  the  enclosed  load  manfully  ta 


A  DANGEROUS  VISITOR  55 

the  bank  and  spilled  it  down  into  the  morass. 
The  digging  went  on  rapidly  until  Ab,  out  of 
breath  and  tired,  threw  down  the  skin  and 
climbed  into  the  treetop  and  became  the 
watchman,  while  Oak  assumed  his  labor.  So 
they  worked  alternately  in  treetop  and  upon 
the  ground  until  the  sun's  rays  shot  red  and 
slanting  from  the  west.  Wiser  than  to  linger 
until  dusk  had  too  far  deepened  were  these 
youngsters  of  the  period.  The  clamshells 
were  left  in  the  pit.  The  lookout  above  de 
clared  nothing  in  sight,  then  slid  to  the  ground 
and  joined  his  friend,  and  another  dash  was 
made  to  the  hill  and  the  safety  of  its  treetops. 
It  was  in  great  spirits  that  the  boys  separated 
to  seek  their  respective  homes.  They  felt 
that  they  were  personages  of  consequence. 
They  had  no  doubt  of  the  success  of  the  en 
terprise  in  which  they  had  embarked,  and  the 
next  day  found  them  together  again  at  an 
early  hour,  when  the  digging  was  enthusiastic 
ally  resumed. 

Many  a  load  of  dirt  was  carried  on  the  sec 
ond  day  from  the  pit  to  the  marsh's  edge,  and 
only  once  did  the  lookout  have  occasion  to 
suggest  to  his  working  companion  that  he  had 
better  climb  the  tr§e?  A  movement  in  the 


56  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

high  grass  some  hundred  yards  away  had 
aroused  suspicion;  some  wild  animal  had 
passed,  but,  whatever  it  was,  it  did  not  ap 
proach  the  clump  of  trees  and  work  was  re 
sumed  at  once.  When  dusk  came  the  moist 
black  soil  found  in  the  pit  had  all  been  carried 
away  and  the  boys  had  reached,  to  their  in 
tense  disgust,  a  stratum  of  hard  packed  gravel. 
That  meant  infinitely  more  difficult  work  for 
them  and  the  use  of  some  new  utensil. 

There  was  nothing  daunting  in  the  new 
problem.  When  it  came  to  the  mere  matter 
of  securing  a  tool  for  digging  the  hard  gravel, 
both  Ab  and  Oak  were  easily  at  home.  The 
cave  dwellers,  haunting  the  river  side  for  cen 
turies,  had  learned  how  to  deal  with  gravel, 
and  when  Ab  returned  to  the  scene  the  next 
day  he  brought  with  him  a  sturdy  oaken  stave 
some  six  feet  in  length,  sharpened  to  a  point 
and  hardened  in  the  fire  until  it  was  almost 
iron-like  in  its  quality.  Plunged  into  the 
gravel  as  far  as  the  force  of  a  blow  could 
drive  it,  and  pulled  backward  with  the  lever 
age  obtained,  the  gravel  was  loosened  and 
pried  upward  either  in  masses  which  could  be 
lifted  out  entire,  or  so  crumbled  that  it  could 
be  easily  dished  out  with  the  clamshell.  The 


A  DANGEROUS  VISITOR  57 

work  went  on  more  slowly,  but  not  less  stead 
ily  nor  hopefully  than  on  the  days  preceding, 
and,  for  some  time,  was  uninterrupted  by  any 
striking  incident.  The  boys  were  becoming 
buoyant.  They  decided  that  the  grassy  val 
ley  was  almost  uninfested  by  things  dangerous. 
They  became  reckless  sometimes,  and  would 
work  in  the  pit  together.  As  a  rule,  though, 
they  were  cautious — this  was  an  inherent  and 
necessary  quality  of  a  cave  being — and  it  was 
well  for  them  that  it  was  so,  for  when  an 
emergency  came  only  one  of  them  was  in  the 
pit,  while  the  other  was  aloft  in  the  lookout 
and  alert. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  one  afternoon 
when  Ab,  whose  turn  it  chanced  to  be,  was 
working  valiantly  in  the  pit,  while  Oak,  all 
eyes,  was  perched  aloft.  Suddenly  there  came 
from  the  treetop  a  yell  which  was  no  boyish 
expression  of  exuberance  of  spirits.  It  was 
something  which  made  Ab  leap  from  the  ex 
cavation  as  he  heard  it  and  reach  the  side  of 
Oak  as  the  latter  came  literally  tumbling  down 
the  bole  of  the  tree  of  watching. 

"Run!"  Oak  said,  and  the  two  darted 
across  the  valley  and  reached  the  forest  and 
clambered  into  safe  hiding  among  the  clus- 


58  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

taring  branches.  Then,  in  the  intervals  be 
tween  his  gasping  breath,  Oak  managed  to 
again  articulate  a  word: 

"Look!"  he  said. 

Ab  looked  and,  in  an  instant,  realized  how 
wise  had  been  Oak's  alarming  cry  and  how 
well  it  was  for  them  that  they  were  so  distant 
from  the  clump  of  trees  so  near  the  river. 
What  he  saw  was  that  which  would  have 
made  the  boys'  fathers  flee  as  swiftly  had  they 
been  in  their  children's  place.  Yet  what  Ab 
looked  upon  was  only  a  waving,  in  sinuous 
regularity,  of  the  rushes  between  the  tree 
clump  and  the  river  and  the  lifting  of  a  head 
some  ten  or  fifteen  feet  above  the  reed-tops. 
What  had  so  alarmed  the  boys  was  what 
would  have  disturbed  a  whole  tribe  of  their 
kinsmen,  even  though  they  had  chanced  to  be 
assembled,  armed  to  the  teeth  with  such 
weapons  as  they  then  possessed.  What  they 
saw  was  not  of  the  common.  Very  rarely  in 
deed,  along  the  Thames,  had  occurred  such  an 
invasion.  The  father  of  Oak  had  never  seen 
the  thing  at  all,  and  the  father  of  Ab  had  seen 
it  but  once,  and  that  many  years  before.  It 
was  the  great  serpent  of  the  seas! 

Safely  concealed  in  the  branches  of  a  tree 


A  DANGEROUS  VISITOR  59 

overlooking  the  little  valley,  the  boys  soon 
recovered  their  normal  breathing  capacity  and 
were  able  to  converse  again.  Not  more  than 
a  couple  of  minutes,  at  the  utmost,  had  passed 
between  their  departure  from  their  place  of 
labor  and  their  establishment  in  this  same 
tree.  The  creature  which  had  so  alarmed 
them  was  still  gliding  swiftly  across  the  morass 
between  the  lowland  and  the  river.  It  came 
forward  through  the  marsh  undeviatingly  to 
ward  the  tree  clump,  the  tall  reeds  quivering  as 
it  passed,  but  its  approach  indicated  by  no 
sound  or  other  token  of  disturbance.  The 
slight  bank  reached,  there  was  uplifted  a  great 
serpent  head,  and  then,  without  hesitation, 
the  monster  swept  forward  to  the  trees  and 
soon  hung  dangling  from  the  branches  of  the 
largest  one,  its  great  coils  twined  loosely  about 
trunk  and  limb,  its  head  swinging  gently  back 
and  forth  just  below  the  lower  branch.  It  was 
a  serpent  at  least  sixty  feet  in  length,  and  two 
feet  or  more  in  breadth  at  its  huge  middle.  It 
was  queerly  but  not  brilliantly  spotted,  and 
its  head  was  very  nearly  that  of  the  anaconda 
of  to-day.  Already  the  sea-serpent  had  become 
amphibious.  It  had  already  acquired  the  knowl 
edge  it  has  transmitted  to  the  anaconda,  that 


60  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

it  might  leave  the  stream,  and,  from  som» 
vantage  point  upon  the  shore,  find  more  surely 
a  victim  than  in  the  waters  of  the  sea  or  river. 
This  monster  serpent  was  but  waiting  for  the 
advent  of  any  land  animal,  save  perhaps  those 
so  great  as  the  mammoth  or  the  great  elk,  or, 
possibly,  even  the  cave  bear  or  the  cave  tiger. 
The  mammoth  was,  of  course,  an  impossibility, 
even  to  the  sea-serpent.  The  elk,  with  its  size 
and  vast  antlers,  was,  to  put  it  at  the  mildest, 
a  perplexing  thing  to  swallow.  The  rhinoc 
eros  was  dangerous,  and  as  for  the  cave  bear 
and  the  cave  tiger,  they  were  uncomfortable 
customers  for  anything  alive.  But  there  were 
the  cattle,  the  aurochs  and  the  urus,  and  the 
little  horses  and  deer,  and  wild  hog  and  a  score 
of  other  creatures  which,  in  the  estimation  of 
the  sea-serpent,  were  extremely  edible.  A 
tidbit  to  the  serpent  was  a  man,  but  he  did 
not  get  one  in  half  a  century. 

Not  long  did  the  boys  remain  even  in  a 
harborage  so  distant.  Each  fled  homeward 
with  his  story. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    UNEXPECTED    HAPPENS. 

IT  was  with  scant  breath,  when  they  reached 
their  respective  caves,  that  the  boys  told  the 
story  of  the  dread  which  had  invaded  the 
marsh-land.  What  they  reported  was  no  light 
event  and,  the  next  morning,  their  fathers  were 
with  them  in  the  treetop  at  the  safe  distance 
which  the  wooded  crest  afforded  and  watch 
ing  with  apprehensive  eyes  the  movements 
of  the  monster  settled  in  the  rugged  valley 
tree.  There  was  slight  movement  to  note. 
Coiled  easily  around  the  bole,  just  above 
where  the  branches  began,  and  resting  a 
portion  of  its  body  upon  a  thick,  extending 
limb,  its  head  and  perhaps  ten  or  fifteen  feet 
of  its  length  swinging  downward,  the  great 
serpent  still  hung  awaiting  its  prey,  ready  to 
launch  itself  upon  any  hapless  victim  which 
might  come  within  its  reach.  That  its  appe 
tite  would  soon  be  gratified  admitted  of  little 
doubt.  Profiting  by  the  absence  of  the  boys, 
who  while  at  work  made  no  effort  to  conceal 
61 


62  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

themselves,  groups  of  wild  horses  were  already 
feeding  in  the  lowlands,  and  the  elk  and  wild 
ox  were  visible  here  and  there.  The  group 
in  the  treetop  on  the  crest  realized  that  it 
had  business  on  hand.  The  sea-serpent  was 
a  terror  to  the  cave  people,  and  when  one 
appeared  to  haunt  the  river  the  word  was 
swiftly  spread,  and  they  gathered  to  accom 
plish  its  end  if  possible.  With  warnings  to 
the  boys  they  left  behind  them,  the  fathers 
sped  away  in  different  directions,  one  up,  the 
other  down,  the  river's  bank,  Stripe-Face  to 
seek  the  help  of  some  of  the  cave  people  and 
One-Ear  to  arouse  the  Shell  people,  as  they 
were  called,  whose  home  was  beside  a  creek 
some  miles  below.  Into  the  home  of  the 
little  colony  One-Ear  went  swinging  a  little 
later,  demanding  to  see  the  head  man  of  the 
fishing  village,  and  there  ensued  an  earnest 
conversation  of  short  sentences,  but  one 
which  caused  immediate  commotion.  To  the 
hill  dwellers  the  rare  advent  of  a  sea-serpent 
was  comparatively  a  small  matter,  but  it  was 
a  serious  thing  to  the  Shell  folk.  The  sea- 
serpent  might  come  up  the  creek  and  be 
among  them  at  any  moment,  ravaging  their 
community,  The  Shell  people  were  grateful 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS  63 

for  the  warning,  but  there  were  few  of  them 
at  home,  and  less  than  a  dozen  could  be 
mustered  to  go  with  One-Ear  to  the  rendez 
vous. 

They  were  too  late,  the  hardy  people  who 
came  up  to  assail  the  serpent,  because  the  ser 
pent  had  not  waited  for  them.  The  two  boys 
roosting  in  the  treetop  on  the  height  had 
beheld  what  was  not  pleasant  to  look  upon, 
lor  they  had  seen  a  yearling  of  the  aurochs 
enveloped  by  the  thing,  which  whipped  down 
suddenly  from  the  branches,  and  the  crushed 
quadruped  had  been  swallowed  in  the  ser 
pent's  way.  But  the  dinner  which  might 
suffice  it  for  weeks  had  not,  in  all  entirety, 
the  effect  upon  it  which  would  follow  the 
swallowing  of  a  wild  deer  by  its  degenerate 
descendants  of  the  Amazonian  or  Indian 
forests. 

The  serpent  did  not  lie  a  listless  mass,  help 
lessly  digesting  the  product  of  the  tragedy 
upon  the  spot  of  its  occurrence,  but  crawled 
away  slowly  through  the  reeds,  and  instinct 
ively  to  the  water,  into  which  it  slid  with 
scarce  a  splash,  and  then  went  drifting  lazily 
away  upon  the  current  toward  the  sea.  It  had 
been  years  since  one  of  these  big  water  ser- 


64  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

penis  had  invaded  the  river  at  such  a  distance 
from  its  mouth  and  never  came  another  up  so 
far.  There  were  causes  promoting  rapidly 
the  extinction  of  their  dreadful  kind. 

Three  or  four  days  were  required  before  Ab 
and  Oak  realized,  after  what  had  taken  place, 
that  there  were  in  the  community  any  more 
important  personages  than  they,  and  that 
they  had  work  before  them,  if  they  were  to 
continue  in  their  glorious  career.  When  every 
day  matters  finally  asserted  themselves,  there 
was  their  pit  not  yet  completed.  Because  of 
their  absence,  a  greater  aggregation  of  beasts 
was  feeding  in  the  little  valley.  Not  only  the 
aurochs,  the  ancient  bison,  the  urus,  the  pro 
genitor  of  the  horned  cattle  of  to-day,  wild 
horse  and  great  elk  and  reindeer  were  seen 
within  short  distances  from  each  other,  but 
the  big,  hairy  rhinoceros  of  the  time  was 
crossing  the  valley  again  and  rioting  in  its  herb 
age  or  wallowing  in  the  pools  where  the  valley 
dipped  downward  to  the  marsh.  The  mam 
moth  with  its  young  had  swung  clumsily  across 
the  area  of  rich  feed,  and,  lurking  in  its  train, 
eyeing  hungrily  and  bloodthirstily  the  mam 
moth's  calf,  had  crept  the  great  cave  tiger. 
The  monster  cave  bear  had  shambled  through 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS  &5 

the  high  grass,  seeking  some  small  food  in  de 
fault  of  that  which  might  follow  the  conquest 
of  a  beast  of  size.  The  uncomely  hyenas  had 
gone  slinking  here  and  there  and  had  found 
something  worthy  their  foul  appetite.  All  this 
change  had  come  because  the  two  boys,  being 
boys  and  full  of  importance,  had  neglected  their 
undertaking  for  about  a  week  and  had  talked 
each  in  his  own  home  with  an  air  intended  to 
be  imposing,  and  had  met  each  other  with 
much  dignity  of  bearing,  at  their  favorite 
perching-place  in  the  treetop  on  the  hillside. 
When  there  came  to  them  finally  a  conscious 
ness  that,  to  remain  people  of  magnitude  in 
the  world,  they  must  continue  to  do  some 
thing,  they  went  to  work  bravely.  The  change 
which  had  come  upon  the  valley  in  their  brief 
absence  tended  to  increase  their  confidence, 
for,  as  thus  exhibited,  early  as  was  the  age, 
the  advent  of  the  human  being,  young  or  old, 
somehow  affected  all  animate  nature  and  ter 
rified  it,  and  the  boys  saw  this.  Not  that  the 
great  beasts  did  not  prey  upon  man,  but  then, 
as  now,  the  man  to  the  great  beast  was  some 
thing  of  a  terror,  and  man,  weak  as  he  was,  knew 
himself  and  recognized  himself  as  the  head  of 
all  creation.  The  mammoth,  the  huge,  thick- 
5 


66  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

coated  rhinoceros,  sabre-tooth,  the  monstrous 
tiger,  or  the  bear,  or  the  hyena,  or  the  loping 
wolf,  or  short-bodied  and  vicious  wolverine 
were  to  him,  even  then,  but  lower  creatures. 
Man  felt  himself  the  master  of  the  world,  and 
his  children  inherited  the  perception. 

Work  in  the  pit  progressed  now  rapidly  and 
not  a  great  number  of  days  passed  before  it 
had  attained  the  depth  required.  The  boy  at 
work  was  compelled,  when  emerging,  to  climb 
a  dried  branch  which  rested  against  the  pit's 
edge,  and  the  lookout  in  the  tree  exercised  an 
extra  caution,  since  his  comrade  below  could 
no  longer  attain  safety  in  a  moment.  But  the 
work  was  done  at  last,  that  is,  the  work  of 
digging,  and  there  remained  but  the  comple 
tion  of  the  pitfall,  a  delicate  though  not  a 
difficult  matter.  Across  the  pit,  and  very 
close  together,  were  laid  criss-crosses  of  slender 
branches,  brought  in  armfuls  from  the  forest; 
over  these  dry  grass  was  spread,  thinly  but 
evenly,  and  over  this  again  dust  and  dirt  and 
more  grass  and  twigs,  all  precautions  being  ob 
served  to  give  the  place  a  natural  appearance. 
In  this  the  boys  succeeded  very  well.  Shrewd 
must  have  been  the  animal  of  any  sort  which 
could  detect  the  trap.  Their  chief  work  done, 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS  67 

the  boys  must  now  wait  wisely.  The  place 
was  deserted  again  and  no  nearer  approach 
was  made  to  the  pitfall  than  the  treetops  of 
the  hillside.  There  the  boys  were  to  be  found 
every  day,  eager  and  anxious  and  hopeful  as 
boys  are  generally.  There  was  not  occasion 
for  getting  closer  to  the  trap,  for,  from  their 
distant  perch,  its  surface  was  distinctly  visible 
and  they  could  distinguish  if  it  had  been  broken 
in.  Those  were  days  of  suppressed  excitement 
for  the  two;  they  could  see  the  buffalo  and 
wild  horses  moving  here  and  there,  but  fortune 
was  still  perverse  and  the  trap  was  not  ap 
proached.  Before  its  occupation  by  them,  the 
place  where  they  had  dug  had  appeared  the 
favorite  feeding-place;  now,  with  all  perversity, 
the  wild  horses  and  other  animals  grazed  else 
where,  and  the  boys  began  to  fear  that  they 
had  left  some  traces  of  their  work  which  re 
vealed  it  to  the  wily  beasts.  On  one  day,  for 
an  hour  or  two,  their  hearts  were  in  their 
mouths.  There  issued  from  the  forest  to  the 
westward  the  stately  Irish  elk.  It  moved  for 
ward  across  the  valley  to  the  waters  on  the 
other  side,  and,  after  drinking  its  fill,  began 
feeding  directly  toward  the  tree  clump.  It 
reached  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  pitfalJ 


68  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

and  stood  beneath  the  trees,  fairly  outlined 
against  the  opening  beyond,  and  affording  to 
the  almost  breathless  couple  a  splendid  spec 
tacle.  A  magnificent  creature  was  the  great 
elk  of  the  time  of  the  cave  men,  the  Irish  elk, 
as  those  who  study  the  past  have  named  it, 
because  its  bones  have  been  found  so  fre 
quently  in  what  are  now  the  preserving  peat 
bogs  of  Ireland.  But  the  elk  passed  beyond 
the  sight  of  the  watchers,  and  so  their  bright 
hopes  fell. 

The  crispness  of  full  autumn  had  come,  one 
morning,  when  Ab  and  Oak  met  as  usual  and 
looked  out  across  the  valley  to  learn  if  any 
thing  had  happened  in  the  vicinity  of  the  pit 
fall.  The  hoar  frost,  lying  heavily  on  the 
herbage,  made  the  valley  resemble  a  sea  of 
silver,  checkered  and  spotted  all  over  darkly. 
These  dark  spots  and  lines  were  the  traces  of 
such  animals  as  had  been  in  the  valley  during 
the  night  or  toward  early  morning.  Leading 
everywhere  were  heavy  trails  and  light  ones, 
telling  the  story  of  the  night.  But  very  little 
heed  to  these  things  was  paid  by  the  ardent 
boys.  They  were  too  full  of  their  own  affairs. 
As  they  swung  into  place  together  upon  their 
favorite  limb  and  looked  across  the  valley, 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS  69 

they  uttered  a  simultaneous  and  joyous  shout. 
Something  had  taken  place  at  the  pitfall! 

All  about  the  trap  the  surface  of  the  ground 
was  dark  and  the  area  of  darkness  extended 
even  to  the  little  bank  of  the  swamp  on  the 
riverside.  Careless  of  danger,  the  boys 
dropped  to  the  ground  and,  spears  in  hand, 
ran  like  deer  toward  the  scene  of  their  weeks 
of  labor.  Side  by  side  they  bounded  to  the 
edge  of  the  excavation,  which  now  yawned 
open  to  the  sky.  They  had  triumphed  at  last! 
As  they  saw  what  the  pitfall  held,  they  yelled 
in  unison,  and  danced  wildly  around  the  open 
ing,  in  the  very  height  of  boyish  triumph. 
The  exultation  was  fully  justified,  for  the  pit 
fall  held  a  young  rhinoceros,  a  creature  only  a 
few  months  old,  but  so  huge  already  that  it 
nearly  filled  the  excavation.  It  was  utterly 
helpless  in  the  position  it  occupied.  It  was 
wedged  in,  incapable  of  moving  more  than 
slightly  in  any  direction.  Its  long  snout,  with 
its  sprouting  pair  of  horns,  was  almost  level 
with  the  surface  of  the  ground  and  its  small 
bright  eyes  leered  wickedly  at  its  noisy  ene 
mies.  It  struggled  clumsily  upon  their  ap 
proach,  but  nothing  could  relieve  the  hopeless 
ness  of  its  plight. 


7°  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

All  about  the  pitfall  the  earth  was  plowed 
in  furrows  and  beaten  down  by  the  feet  of 
some  monstrous  animal.  Evidently  the  calf 
was  in  the  company  of  its  mother  when  it  fell 
a  victim  to  the  art  of  the  pitfall  diggers.  It 
was  plain  that  the  mother  had  spent  most  of 
the  night  about  her  young  in  a  vain  effort  to  re 
lease  it.  Well  did  the  cave  boys  understand 
the  signs,  and,  after  their  first  wild  outburst 
of  joy  over  the  capture,  a  sense  of  the  delicacy, 
not  to  say  danger,  of  their  situation  came  upon 
them.  It  was  not  well  to  interfere  with  the 
family  affairs  of  the  rhinoceros.  Where  had 
the  mother  gone?  They  looked  about,  but 
could  see  nothing  to  justify  their  fears.  Only 
for  a  moment,  though,  did  their  sense  of  safety 
last;  hardly  had  the  echo  of  their  shouting 
come  back  from  the  hillside  than  there  was  a 
splashing  and  rasping  of  bushes  in  the  swamp 
and  the  rush  of  some  huge  animal  toward  the 
little  ascent  leading  to  the  valley  proper. 
There  needed  no  word  from  either  boy;  the 
frightened  couple  bounded  to  the  tree  of  refuge 
and  had  barely  begun  clambering  up  its  trunk 
than  there  rose  to  view,  mad  with  rage  and 
charging  viciously,  the  mother  of  the  calf 
rhinoceros. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SABRE-TOOTH    AND    RHINOCEROS. 

THE  rhinoceros  of  the  Stone  Age  was  a 
monstrous  creature,  an  animal  varying  in 
many  respects  from  either  species  of  the  ani 
mal  of  the  present  day,  though  perhaps  some 
what  closely  allied  to  the  huge  double-horned 
and  now  nearly  extinct  white  rhinoceros  of 
southern  Africa.  But  the  brute  of  the  pre 
historic  age  was  a  beast  of  greater  size,  and 
its  skin,  kistead  of  being  bare,  was  densely  cov 
ered  with  a  dingy  colored,  crinkly  hair,  almost 
a  wool.  It  was  something  to  be  dreaded  by 
most  creatures  even  in  this  time  of  great,  fierce 
animals.  It  turned  aside  for  nothing;  it  was 
the  personification  of  courage  and  senseless 
ferocity  when  aroused.  Rarely  seeking  a 
conflict,  it  avoided  none.  The  hugh  mam 
moth,  a  more  peaceful  pachyderm,  would  or 
dinarily  hesitate  before  barring  its  path,  while 
even  the  cave  tiger,  fiercest  and  most  dreaded 
of  the  carnivora  of  the  time,  though  it  might 
prey  upon  the  young  rhinoceros  when  oppor- 

71 


72  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

tunity  occurred,  never  voluntarily  attacked  the 
full-grown  animal.  From  that  almost  imper 
vious  shield  of  leather  hide,  an  inch  or  more 
in  thickness,  protected  further  by  the  woolly 
covering,  even  the  terrible  strokes  of  the  tiger's 
claws  glanced  off  with  but  a  trifling  rending, 
while  one  single  lucky  upward  heave  of  the 
twin  horns  upon  the  great  snout  would  pierce 
and  rend,  as  if  it  were  a  trifling  obstacle,  the 
body  of  any  animal  existing.  The  lifting 
power  of  that  prodigious  neck  was  something 
almost  beyond  conception.  It  was  an  awful 
engine  of  death  when  its  opportunity  chanced 
to  come.  On  the  other  hand,  the  rhinoceros 
of  this  ancient  world  had  but  a  limited  range 
of  vision,  and  was  as  dull-witted  and  danger 
ously  impulsive  as  its  African  prototype  of  to 
day. 

But  short-sighted  as  it  was,  the  boys  clam 
bering  up  the  tree  were  near  enough  for  the 
perception  of  the  great  beast  which  burst 
over  the  hummock,  and  it  charged  directly  at 
them,  the  tree  quivering  when  the  shoulder  of 
the  monster  struck  it  as  it  passed,  though  the 
boys,  already  in  the  branches,  were  in  safety. 
Checking  herself  a  little  distance  beyond,  the 
Hiinoceros  mother  returned,  snorting  fiercely, 


SABRE-TOOTH  AND  RHINOCEROS  73 

and  began  walking  round  and  round  the  calf 
imprisoned  in  the  pitfall.  The  boys  compre 
hended  perfectly  the  story  of  the  night.  The 
calf  once  ensnared,  the  mother  had  sought  in 
vain  to  rescue  it,  and,  finally,  wearied  with 
her  exertion,  had  retired  just  over  the  little 
descent,  there  to  wallow  and  rest  while  still 
keeping  guard  over  her  imprisoned  young. 
The  spectacle  now,  as  she  walked  around  the 
trap,  was  something  which  would  have  been 
pitiful  to  a  later  race  of  man.  The  beast 
would  get  down  upon  her  knees  and  plow 
the  dirt  about  the  calf  with  her  long  horns. 
She  would  seek  to  get  her  snout  beneath  its 
body  sidewise,  and  so  lift  it,  though  each 
effort  was  necessarily  futile.  There  was  no 
room  for  any  leverage,  the  calf  fitted  the 
cavity.  The  boys  clung  to  their  perches  in 
safety,  but  in  perplexity.  Hours  passed,  but 
the  mother  rhinoceros  showed  no  inclination 
to  depart.  It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  after 
noon  when  she  went  away  to  the  wallow,  re 
turning  once  or  twice  to  her  young  before  de 
scending  the  bank,  and,  even  when  she  had 
reached  the  marsh,  snorting  querulously  for 
some  time  before  settling  down  to  rest. 

The  boys  waited  until  all  was  quiet  in  the 


74  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

marsh,  and,  as  a  matter  of  prudence,  for 
some  time  longer.  They  wanted  to  feel  as 
sured  that  the  monster  was  asleep,  then, 
quietly,  they  slid  down  the  tree  trunk  and, 
with  noiseless  step,  stole  by  the  pitfall  and 
toward  the  hillside.  A  few  yards  further  on 
their  pace  changed  to  a  run,  which  did  not 
cease  until  they  reached  the  forest  and  its 
refuge,  nor,  even  there,  did  they  linger  for 
any  length  of  time.  Each  started  for  his 
home;  for  their  adventure  had  again  assumed 
a  quality  which  demanded  the  consideration 
of  older  heads  and  the  assistance  of  older 
hands.  It  was  agreed  that  they  should  again 
bring  their  fathers  with  them — by  a  fortunate 
coincidence  each  knew  where  to  find  his  par 
ent  on  this  particular  day — and  that  they 
should  meet  as  soon  as  possible.  It  was  more 
than  an  hour  later  when  the  two  fathers  and 
two  sons,  the  men  armed  with  the  best  weap 
ons  they  possessed,  appeared  upon  the  scene. 
So  far  as  the  watchers  from  the  hillside 
could  determine,  all  was  quiet  about  the  clump 
of  trees  and  the  vicinity  of  the  pitfall.  It  was 
late  in  the  afternoon  now  and  the  men  decided 
that  the  best  course  to  pursue  would  be  to 
steal  down  across  the  Valley,  kill  the  impris- 


SABRE-TOOTH  AND  RHINOCEROS  75 

oned  calf  and  then  escape  as  soon  as  possible, 
leaving  the  mother  to  find  her  offspring  dead; 
reasoning  that  she  would  then  abandon  it. 
Afterward  the  calf  could  be  taken  out  and 
there  would  be  a  feast  of  cave  men  upon  the 
tender  food  and  much  benefit  derived  in  util 
ization  of  the  tough  yet  not,  at  its  age,  too 
thick  hide  of  the  uncommon  quarry.  There 
was  but  one  difficulty  in  the  way  of  carrying 
out  this  enterprise:  the  wind  was  from  the 
north  and  blew  from  the  hunters  toward  the 
river,  and  the  rhinoceros,  though  lacking 
much  range  of  vision,  was  as  acute  of  scent  as 
the  gray  wolves  which  sometimes  strayed  lik( 
shadows  through  the  forest  or  the  hyenas 
which  scented  from  afar  the  living  or  the 
dead.  Still,  the  venture  was  determined 
upon. 

The  four  descended  the  hill,  the  two  boys 
in  the  rear,  treading  with  the  lightness  of  the 
tiger  cat,  and  went  cautiously  across  the  valley 
and  toward  the  tree  trunk.  Certainly  no  sound 
they  made  could  have  reached  the  ear  of  the 
monster  wallowing  below  the  bank,  but  the 
wind  carried  to  its  nostrils  the  message  of  their 
coming.  They  were  not  half  way  across  the 
valley  when  the  rhinoceros  floundered  up  to 


?  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

the  level  and  charged  wildly  along  the  course 
of  the  wafted  scent.  There  was  a  flight  for 
the  hillside,  made  none  too  soon,  but  yet  in 
time  for  safety.  Walking  around  in  circles, 
snorting  viciously,  the  great  beast  lingered  in 
the  vicinity  for  a  time,  then  went  back  to  its 
imprisoned  calf,  where  it  repeated  the  per 
formance  of  earlier  in  the  day  and  finally  re 
tired  again  to  its  hidden  resting-place  near  by. 
It  was  dusk  now  and  the  shadows  were  deep 
ening  about  the  valley. 

The  men,  well  up  in  the  tree  with  the 
boys,  were  undetermined  what  to  do.  They 
might  steal  along  to  the  eastward  and  approach 
the  calf  from  another  direction  without  dis 
turbing  the  great  brute  by  their  scent.  But 
it  was  becoming  darker  every  moment  and  the 
region  was  a  dangerous  one.  In  the  valley 
and  away  from  the  trees  they  were  at  a  disad 
vantage  and  at  night  there  were  fearful  things 
abroad.  Still,  they  decided  to  take  the  risk, 
and  the  four,  following  the  crest  of  the  slight 
hill,  moved  along  its  circle  southeastward 
toward  the  river  bank,  each  on  the  alert  and 
each  with  watchful  eyes  scanning  the  forest 
depths  to  the  left  or  the  valley  to  the  right.  Sud 
denly  One-Ear  leaped  back  into  the  shadow, 


SABRE-TOOTH  AND  RHINOCEROS  77 

waved  his  hand  to  check  the  advance  of  those 
behind  him,  then  pointed  silently  across  the 
valley  and  toward  the  clump  of  trees. 

Not  a  hundred  yards  from  the  pitfall  the 
high  grass  was  swaying  gently;  some  creature 
was  passing  along  toward  the  pitfall  and  a 
thing  of  no  slight  size.  Every  eye  of  the  quar 
tet  was  strained  now  to  learn  what  might  be 
the  interloper  upon*  the  scene.  It  was  nearly 
dark,  but  the  eyes  of  the  cave  men,  almost 
nocturnal  in  their  adaptation  as  they  were, 
distinguished  a  long,  dark  body  emerging  from 
the  reeds  and  circling  curiously  and  cautiously 
around  the  pitfall;  nearer  and  nearer  it  ap 
proached  the  helpless  prisoner  until  perhaps 
twenty  feet  distant  from  it.  Here  the  thing 
seemed  to  crouch  and  remain  quiescent,  but 
only  for  a  little  time.  Then  resounded  across 
the  valley  a  screaming  roar,  so  fierce  and  rau 
cous  and  death-telling  and  terrifying  that  even 
the  hardened  hunters  leaped  with  affright.  At 
the  same  moment  a  dark  object  shot  through 
the  air  and  landed  on  the  back  of  the  creature 
in  the  shallow  pit.  The  tiger  was  abroad! 
There  was  a  wild  bleat  of  terror  and  agony,  a 
growl  fiercer  and  shorter  than  the  first  hoarse 
cry  of  the  tiger,  and,  then,  for  a  moment  silence, 


78  THE  STORY  OF  A3 

but  only  for  a  moment.  Snorts,  almost  as 
terrible  in  their  significance  as  the  tiger's  roar, 
came  from  the  marsh's  edge.  A  vast  form 
loomed  above  the  slight  embankment  and  there 
came  the  thunder  of  ponderous  feet.  The  rhi 
noceros  mother  was  charging  the  great  tiger! 

There  was  a  repetition  of  the  fierce  snorts, 
with  the  wild  rush  of  the  rhinoceros,  another 
roar,  the  sound  of  which  reechoed  through  the 
valley,  and  then  could  be  dimly  seen  a  black 
something  flying  through  the  air  and  alighting, 
apparently,  upon  the  back  of  the  charging 
monster.  There  was  a  confusion  of  forms  and 
a  confusion  of  terrifying  sounds,  the  snarling 
roar  of  the  great  tiger  and  half  whistling  bel 
low  of  the  great  pachyderm,  but  nothing  could 
be  seen  distinctly.  That  a  gigantic  duel  was  in 
progress  the  cave  men  knew,  and  knew,  as 
well,  that  its  scene  was  one  upon  which  they 
could  not  venture.  The  clamor  had  not  ended 
when  the  darkness  became  complete  and  then 
each  father,  with  his  son,  fled  swiftly  home 
ward. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  four  were  to 
gether  again  at  the  same  point  of  safety  and 
advantage,  and  again  the  frost-covered  valley 
was  a.  sea  of  silver,  this  time  unmarred  by  the 


SABRE-TOOTH  AND  RHINOCEROS  79 

criss-crosses  of  feeding  or  hunting  animals. 
There  was  no  sign  of  life;  no  creature  of  the 
forest  or  the  plain  was  so  daring  as  to  venture 
soon  upon  the  battlefield  of  the  rhinoceros  and 
the  cave  tiger.  Cautiously  the  cave  men  and 
their  sons  made  their  way  across  the  valley 
and  approached  the  pitfall.  What  was  re 
vealed  to  them  told  in  a  moment  the  whole 
story.  The  half-devoured  body  of  the  rhinoc 
eros  calf  was  in  the  pit.  It  had  been  killed,  no 
doubt,  by  the  tiger's  first  fierce  assault,  its  back 
broken  by  the  first  blow  of  the  great  forearm, 
or  its  vertebrae  torn  apart  by  the  first  grasp 
of  the  great  jaws.  There  were  signs  of  the 
conflict  all  about,  but  that  it  had  not  come  to 
a  deadly  issue  was  apparent.  Only  by  some 
accident  could  the  rhinoceros  have  caught 
upon  its  horns  the  agile  monster  cat,  and  only 
by  an  accident  even  more  remote  could  the 
tiger  have  reached  a  vital  part  of  its  huge  en 
emy.  There  had  been  a  long  and  weary 
battle — a  mother  creature  fighting  for  her 
young  and  the  great  flesh-eater  fighting  for  his 
prey.  But  the  combatants  had  assuredly  sep 
arated  without  the  death  of  either,  and  the 
bereaved  rhinoceros,  knowing  her  young  one 
to  be  dead,  had  finally  left  the  valley,  while 


80  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

the  tiger  had  returned  to  its  prey  and  fed  its 
fill.  But  there  was  much  meat  left.  There 
were,  in  the  estimation  of  the  cave  people, 
few  more  acceptable  feasts  than  that  obtain 
able  from  the  flesh  of  a  young  rhinoceros. 
The  first  instinct  of  the  two  men  was  to  work 
fiercely  with  their  flint  knives  and  cut  out 
great  lumps  of  meat  from  the  body  in  the  pit. 
Hardly  had  they  begun  their  work,  when,  as 
by  common  impulse,  each  clambered  out  from 
the  depression  suddenly,  and  there  was  a  brief 
and  earnest  discussion.  The  cave  tiger,  mon 
arch  of  the  time,  was  not  a  creature  to  aban 
don  what  he  had  slain  until  he  had  devoured 
it  utterly.  Gorged  though  he  might  be,  he 
was  undoubtedly  in  hiding  within  a  compar 
atively  short  distance.  He  would  return  again 
inevitably.  He  might  be  lying  sleeping  in 
the  nearest  clump  of  bushes!  It  was  possible 
that  his  appetite  might  come  upon  him  soon 
again  and  that  he  might  appear  at  any  mo 
ment.  What  chance  then  for  the  human 
beings  who  had  ventured  into  his  dining-room? 
There  was  but  one  sensible  course  to  follow, 
and  that  was  instant  retreat.  The  four  fled 
again  to  the  hillside  and  the  forest,  carrying 
with  them,  however,  the  masses  of  flesh  al- 


SABRE-TOOTH  AND  RHINOCEROS  8 1 

ready  severed  from  the  body  of  the  calf. 
There  was  food  for  a  day  or  two  for  each 
family. 

And  so  ended  the  first  woodland  venture  of 
these  daring  boys.  For  days  the  vicinity  of 
the  little  valley  was  not  sought  by  either  man 
or  youth,  since  the  tiger  might  still  be  lurking 
near.  When,  later,  the  youths  dared  to  visit 
the  scene  of  their  bold  exploit,  there  were 
only  bones  in  the  pitfall  they  had  made.  The 
tiger  had  eaten  its  prey  and  had  gone  to  other 
fields.  In  later  autumn  came  a  great  flood 
down  the  valley,  rising  so  high  that  the  father 
of  Oak  and  all  his  family  were  driven  tempo 
rarily  from  their  cave  by  the  water's  influx 
and  compelled  to  seek  another  habitation 
many  miles  away.  Some  time  passed  before 
the  comrades  met  again. 

As  for  Ab,  this  exploit  might  be  counted 
almost  as  the  beginning  of  his  manhood.  His 
father — and  fathers  had  even  then  a  certain 
paternal  pride — had  come  to  recognize  in  a 
degree  the  vigor  and  daring  of  his  son. 
The  mother,  of  course,  was  even  more  appre 
ciative,  though  to  her  firstborn  she  could  give 
scant  attention,  as  Ab  had  the  small  brother 
in  the  cave  now  and  the  little  sister  who  was 
6 


82  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

stil.  smaller,  but  from  this  time  the  youth  be 
came  a  person  of  some  importance.  He  grew 
rapidly,  and  the  sinewy  stripling  developed, 
not  increasing  strength  and  stature  and  round 
ing  brawn  alone,  for  he  had  both  ingenuity 
and  persistency  of  purpose,  qualities  which 
made  him  rather  an  exception  among  the  cave 
boys  of  his  age. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DOMESTIC    MATTERS. 

ATTENTION  has  already  been  called  to  the  fact 
that  the  family  of  Ab  were  of  the  aristocracy 
of  the  region,  and  it  should  be  added  that  the 
interior  of  One-Ear's  mansion  corresponded 
with  his  standing  in  the  community.  It  was  a 
fine  cave,  there  was  no  doubt  about  that,  and 
Red-Spot  was  a  notable  housekeeper.  As  a 
rule,  the  bones  remaining  about  the  fire  after 
a  meal  were  soon  thrown  outside — at  least 
they  were  never  allowed  to  accumulate  for 
more  than  a  month  or  two.  The  beds  were 
excellent,  for,  in  addition  to  the  mass  of  leaves 
heaped  upon  the  earth  which  formed  a  resting- 
place  for  the  family,  there  were  spread  the 
skins  of  various  animals.  The  water  privileges 
of  the  establishment  were  extensive,  for  there 
was  the  river  in  front,  much  utilized — for 
drinking  purposes.  There  were  ledges  and 
shelves  of  rock  projecting  here  and  there  from 
the  sides  of  the  cave,  and  upon  these  were  laid 
the  weapons  and  implements  of  the  household, 
83 


84  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

so  that,  excepting  an  occasional  bone  upon 
the  earthen  floor,  or,  perhaps,  a  spattering  of 
red,  where  some  animal  had  been  cut  up  for 
roasting,  the  place  was  very  neat  indeed.  The 
fact  that  the  smoke  from  the  fire  could,  when 
the  wind  was  right,  ascend  easily  through  the 
roof  made  the  residence  one  of  the  finest  within 
a  large  district  of  the  country.  As  to  light,  it 
cannot  be  said  that  the  house  was  well  pro 
vided.  The  fire  at  night  illuminated  a  small 
area  and,  in  the  daytime,  light  entered  through 
the  doorway,  and,  to  an  extent,  through  the 
hole  in  the  cave's  top,  as  did  also  the  rains, 
but  the  light  was  by  no  means  perfect.  The 
doorway,  for  obvious  reasons,  was  narrow  and 
there  was  a  huge  rock,  long  ago  rolled  inside 
with  much  travail,  which  could  on  occasion  be 
utilized  in  blocking  the  narrow  passage. 
Barely  room  to  squeeze  by  this  obstruction 
existed  at  the  doorway.  The  sneaking  but 
dangerous  hyena  had  a  keen  scent  and  was 
full  of  curiosity.  The  monster  bear  of  the  time 
was  ever  hungry  and  the  great  cave  tiger, 
though  rarer,  was,  as  has  been  shown,  a  haunt 
ing  dread.  Great  attention  was  paid  to  door 
ways  in  those  days,  not  from  an  artistic  point 
of  view  exactly,  but  from  reasons  cogent  enough 


DOMESTIC  MATTERS  85 

in  the  estimation  of  the  cave  men.  But  the 
cave  was  warm  and  safe  and  the  sharp  eyes  of 
its  inhabitants,  accustomed  to  the  semi-dark 
ness,  found  slight  difficulty  in  discerning  ob 
jects  in  the  gloom.  Very  content  with  their 
habitation  were  all  the  family  and  Red-Spot 
particularly,  as  a  chatelaine  should,  felt  much 
pride  in  her  surroundings. 

It  may  be  added  that  the  family  of  One- 
Ear  was  a  happy  one.  His  life  with  Red-Spot 
was  the  sequence  of  what  might  be  termed  a 
fortunate  marriage.  It  is  true  that  standards 
vary  with  times,  and  that  the  demeanor  of 
the  couple  toward  each  other  was  occasionally 
not  what  would  be  counted  the  index  of  do 
mestic  felicity  in  this  more  artificial  and  de 
ceptive  age.  It  was  never  fully  determined 
whether  One-Ear  or  Red-Spot  could  throw  a 
stone  ax  with  the  greater  accuracy,  although 
certainly  he  could  hurl  one  with  greater  force 
than  could  his  wife.  But  the  deftness  of  each 
in  eluding  such  dangerous  missiles  was  about 
the  same,  and  no  great  harm  had  at  any  time 
resulted  from  the  effects  of  momentary  ebulli 
tions  of  anger,  followed  by  action  on  the  part 
of  either.  There  had  not  been  at  any  time  a 
scandal  in  the  family.  The  pair  were  faithful 


86  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

to  each  other.  Society  was  somewhat  scat 
tered  in  those  days,  and  the  cave  twain,  any 
where,  were  generally  as  steadfast  as  the  lion 
and  the  lioness.  It  was  centuries  later,  too, 
before  the  cave  men's  posterity  became  degen 
erate  enough  or  prosperous  enough,  or  safe 
enough,  to  be  polygamous,  and,  so  far  as  the 
area  of  the  Thames  valley  or  even  the  entire 
"  Paris  basin,"  as  it  is  called,  was  concerned, 
monogamy  held  its  own  very  fairly,  from  the 
shell -beds  of  the  earliest  kitchen-middens  to 
the  time  of  the  bronze  ax  and  the  dawn  of 
what  we  now  call  civilization. 

There  were  now  five  members  in  this  family 
of  the  period,  One-Ear,  Red-Spot,  Ab,  Bark 
and  Beech-Leaf,  the  two  last  named  being  Ab's 
younger  brother  and  little  more  than  baby 
sister.  The  names  given  them  had  come  in 
the  same  accidental  way  as  had  the  name  of 
Ab.  The  brother,  when  very  small,  had  imi 
tated  in  babyish  way  the  barking  of  some 
wolfish  creature  outside  which  had  haunted 
the  cave's  vicinity  at  night  time,  and  so  the 
name  of  Bark,  bestowed  accidentally  by  Ah 
himself,  had  become  the  youngster's  title  for 
life.  As  to  Beech-Leaf,  she  had  gained  her 
name  in  another  way.  She  was  a  fat  and  joy- 


DOMESTIC  MATTERS  87 

ous  little  specimen  of  a  cave  baby  and  not 
much  addicted  to  lying  as  dormant  as  babies 
sometimes  do.  The  bearskin  upon  which  her 
mother  laid  her  had  not  infrequently  proven 
too  limited  an  area  for  her  exploits  and  she 
would  roll  from  it  into  the  great  bed  of  beech 
leaves  upon  which  it  was  placed,  and  become 
fairly  lost  in  the  brown  mass.  So  often  had 
this  hilarious  young  lady  to  be  disinterred  from 
the  beech  leaf  bed,  that  the  name  given  her 
came  naturally,  through  association  of  ideas. 
Between  the  birth  of  Ab  and  that  of  his  younger 
brother  an  interval  of  five  years  had  taken 
place,  the  birth  of  the  sister  occurring  three  or 
four  years  later.  So  it  came  that  Ab,  in  the 
absence  of  his  father  and  mother,  was  distinctly 
the  head  of  the  family,  admonitory  to  his 
brother,  with  ideas  as  to  the  physical  discipline 
requisite  on  occasion,  and,  in  a  rude  way,  fond 
of  and  protective  toward  the  baby  sister. 

There  was  a  certain  regularity  in  the  daily 
program  of  the  household,  although,  with 
reference  to  what  was  liable  to  occur  outside, 
it  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  partaken  of  the 
element  of  monotony.  The  work  of  the  day 
consisted  merely  in  getting  something  to  eat, 
and  in  this  work  father  and  mother  alike  took 


88  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

an  active  part,  their  individual  duties  being 
somewhat  varied.  In  a  general  way  One-Ear 
relied  upon  himself  for  the  provision  of  flesh, 
but  there  were  roots  and  nuts  and  fruits,  in 
their  season,  and  in  the  gathering  of  these 
Red-Spot  was  an  admitted  expert.  Not  that 
all  her  efforts  were  confined  to  the  fruits  of 
the  soil  and  forest,  for  she  could,  if  need  be, 
assist  her  husband  in  the  pursuit  or  capture  of 
any  animal.  She  was  not  less  clever  than  he 
in  that  animal's  subsequent  dissection,  and  was 
far  more  expert  in  its  cooking.  In  the  tan 
ning  of  skins  she  was  an  adept.  So  it  chanced 
that  at  this  time  the  father  and  mother  fre 
quently  left  the  cave  together  in  the  morning, 
their  elder  son  remaining  as  protector  of  the 
younger  inmates.  When  occasionally  he  went 
with  his  parents,  or  was  allowed  to  venture 
forth  alone,  extra  precautions  were  taken  as  to 
the  cave's  approaches.  Just  outside  the  en 
trance  was  a  stone  similar  to  the  one  on  the 
inside,  and  when  the  two  young  children  were 
left  unguarded  this  outside  barricade  was  rolled 
against  what  remained  of  the  entrance,  so 
that  the  small  people,  though  prisoners,  were 
at  least  secure  from  dangerous  amimals.  Of 
course  there  were  variations  in  the  program. 


DOMESTIC  MATTERS  89 

There  was  that  degree  of  fellowship  among 
the  cave  men,  even  at  this  early  age,  to  allow 
of  an  occasional  banding  together  for  hunting 
purposes,  a  battle  of  some  sort  or  the  sur 
rounding  and  destruction  of  some  of  the 
greater  animals.  At  such  times  One-Ear 
would  be  absent  from  the  cave  for  days  and 
Ab  and  his  mother  would  remain  sole  guard 
ians.  The  boy  enjoyed  these  occasions  im 
mensely;  they  gave  him  a  fine  sense  of  re 
sponsibility  and  importance,  and  did  much 
toward  the  development  of  the  manhood  that 
was  in  him,  increasing  his  self-reliance  and 
perfecting  him  in  the  art  of  winning  his  daily 
bread,  or  what  was  daily  bread's  equivalent 
at  the  time  in  which  he  lived.  It  was  not  in 
outdoor  and  physical  life  alone  that  he  grew. 
There  was  something  more  to  him,  a  combi 
nation  of  traits  somewhere  which  made  him  a 
little  beyond  and  above  the  mere  seeker  after 
food.  He  was  never  entirely  dormant,  a 
sleeper  on  the  skins  and  beech  leaves,  even 
when  in  the  shelter  of  the  cave,  after  the 
day's  adventures.  He  reasoned  according  to 
such  gifts  as  circumstances  had  afforded  him 
and  he  had  the  instinct  of  devising.  An  in 
stinct  toward  devising  was  a  great  thing  to  its 
possessor  in  the  time  of  the  cave  people. 


90  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

We  know  very  well  to-day,  01  think  we 
know,  that  the  influence  of  the  mother,  in 
most  cases,  dominates  that  of  the  father  in 
making  the  future  of  the  man-child.  It  may 
be  that  this  comes  because  in  early  life  the 
boy,  throughout  the  time  when  all  he  sees  or 
learns  will  be  most  clear  in  his  memory  until 
he  dies,  is  more  with  the  woman  parent  than 
with  the  man,  who  is  afield;  or,  it  may  be, 
there  is  some  criss-cross  law  of  nature  which 
makes  the  man  ordinarily  transmit  his  quali 
ties  to  the  daughter  and  the  woman  transmit 
hers  to  the  son.  About  that  we  do  not  know 
yet.  But  it  is  certain  that  Ab  was  more  like 
his  mother  than  his  father,  and  that  in  these 
young  days  of  his  he  was  more  immediately 
under  her  influence.  And  Red-Spot  was  su 
perior  in  many  ways  to  the  ordinary  woman 
of  the  cave  time. 

It  was  good  for  the  boy  that  he  was  so  un 
der  the  maternal  dominion,  and  that,  as  he 
lingered  about  the  cave,  he  aided  in  the  mak 
ing  of  threads  of  sinew  or  intestine,  or  looked 
on  interestedly  as  his  mother,  using  the  bone 
needle,  which  he  often  sharpened  for  her  with 
his  flint  scraper,  sewed  together  the  skins 
which  made  the  garments  of  the  family.  The 


DOMESTIC  MATTERS  9 1 

needle  was  one  without  an  eye,  a  mere  awl, 
which  made  holes  through  which  the  thread 
was  pushed.  As  the  growing  boy  lounged  or 
labored  near  his  mother,  alternately  helpful  or 
annoying,  as  the  case  might  be,  he  learned 
many  things  which  were  of  value  to  him  in 
the  future,  and  resolved  upon  brave  actions 
which  should  be  greatly  to  his  credit.  He 
was  but  a  cub,  a  young  being  almost  as  un 
reasoning  in  some  ways  as  the  beasts  of  the 
wood,  but  he  had  his  hopes  and  vanities,  as  has 
even  the  working  beaver  or  the  dancing  crane, 
and  from  the  long  mother-talks  came  a  degree 
of  definiteness  of  outline  to  his  ambitions. 
He  would  be  the  greatest  hunter  and  warrior 
in  all  the  region  ! 

The  cave  mother  easily  understood  her 
child's  increasing  daringness  and  vigor,  and 
though  swift  to  anger  and  strong  of  hand,  she 
could  not  but  feel  a  pride  in  and  tell  her  tales  to 
the  boy  beside  her.  After  a  time,  when  the 
family  of  Oak  returned  to  the  cave  above  and 
the  boys  were  much  together  again,  the  mother 
began  to  see  less  of  her  son.  The  influence 
of  the  days  spent  by  her  side  remained  with 
the  boy,  however,  and  much  that  he  learned 
there  was  of  value  in  his  later  active  life. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OLD    MOK,    THE    MENTOR. 

IT  was  at  about  this  time,  the  time  when  Ab 
had  begun  to  develop  from  boyhood  into  strong 
and  aspiring  youth,  that  his  family  was  increased 
from  five  to  six  by  the  addition  of  a  singular 
character,  Old  Mok.  This  personage  was  bent 
and  seemingly  old,  but  he  was  younger  than 
he  looked,  though  he  was  not  extremely  fair  to 
look  upon.  He  had  a  shock  of  grizzled  hair, 
a  short,  stiff,  unpleasant  beard,  and  the  con 
dition  of  one  of  his  legs  made  him  a  cripple 
of  an  exaggerated  type.  He  could  hobble 
about  and  on  great  occasions  make  a  journey 
of  some  length,  but  he  was  practically  de 
barred  from  hunting.  The  extraordinary  curv 
ature  of  his  twisted  leg  was,  as  usual  in  his 
time,  the  result  of  an  encounter  with  some 
wild  beast.  The  limb  curved  like  a  corkscrew 
and  was  so  much  shorter  than  the  other  leg 
that  the  man  was  really  safe  only  when  the 
Walls  of  a  cave  enclosed  him.  But  if  his  legs 
were  weak  his  brain  and  arms  were  not.  In 
92 


OLD  MOK,  THE  MENTOR  93 

that  grizzled  head  was  much  intelligence  and 
the  arms  were  those  of  a  great  climber.  His 
toes  were  clasping  things  and  he  was  at  home 
in  a  treetop.  But  he  did  not  travel  much. 
There  was  no  need. 

Old  Mok  had  special  gifts,  and  they  were 
such  as  made  him  a  desirable  friend  among 
the  cave  men.  He  had,  in  his  youth,  been  a 
mighty  hunter  and  had  so  learned  that  he 
could  tell  wonderfully  the  ways  of  beasts  and 
swimming  things  and  the  ways  of  slaying  or 
eluding  them.  Best  of  all,  he  was  such  a 
fashioner  of  weapons  as  the  valley  had  rarely 
known,  and,  because  of  this,  was  in  great  re 
quest  as  a  cared-for  inmate  of  almost  any 
cave  which  hit  his  fancy.  After  his  crippling 
he  had  drifted  from  one  haven  to  another, 
never  quite  satisfied  with  what  he  found,  and 
now  he  had  come  to  live,  as  he  supposed,  with 
his  old  friend,  One-Ear,  until  life  should  end. 
Despite  his  harshness  of  appearance — and 
neither  of  the  two  could  ever  afterward  ex 
plain  it — there  was  something  about  the  grim 
old  man  which  commended  him  to  Ab  from 
the  very  first.  There  was  an  occasional  twin 
kle  in  the  fierce  old  fellow's  eye  and  some 
times  a  certain  cackle  in  his  clucking  talk, 


94  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

which  betokened  not  unkindliness  toward  a 
healthy  youngster,  and  the  two  soon  grew 
together,  as  often  the  young  and  old  may  do. 

Though  but  what  might  be  called  in  one 
sense  a  dependent,  the  crippled  hunter  had  a 
dignity  and  was  arbitrary  in  the  expression  of 
his  views.  Never  once,  through  all  the  thou 
sands  of  years  which  have  passed  since  he 
hobbled  here  and  there,  has  lived  an  armorer 
more  famous  among  those  who  knew  him  best. 
No  fashioner  of  sword,  or  lance,  or  coat  of 
mail  or  plate,  in  the  far  later  centuries,  had 
better  reputation  than  had  Mok  with  his 
friends  and  patrons  for  the  making  of  good 
weapons,  though  it  may  be  that  his  clientele 
was  less  numerous  by  hundreds  to  one  than 
that  of  some  later  manufacturer  of  a  Toledo 
blade.  He  might  be  living  partly  as  a  de 
pendent,  but  he  could  do  almost  as  he  willed. 
Who  should  have  standing  if  it  were  not  ac 
corded  to  the  most  gifted  chipper  of  flint  and 
carver  of  mammoth  tooth  in  all  the  region 
from  where  the  little  waters  came  down  to 
make  a  river,  to  where  the  blue,  broad  stream, 
blending  with  friendly  currents,  was  lost  in 
what  is  now  the  great  North  Sea? 

A  boy  and  an  old  man  can  come  together 


OLD  MOK,  THE  MENTOR  95 

closely,  and  that  has,  through  all  the  ages, 
been  a  good  thing  for  each.  The  boy  learns 
that  which  enables  him  to  do  things  and  the 
man  is  happy  in  watching  the  development  of 
one  of  his  own  kind.  Helping  and  advising 
Ab,  and  sometimes  Oak  as  well,  Old  Mok  did 
not  discourage  sometimes  reckless  undertak 
ings.  In  those  days  chances  were  accepted. 
So  when  any  magnificient  scheme  suggested 
itself  to  the  two  youths,  Ab  at  once  sought  his 
adviser  and  was  not  discountenanced. 

It  was  a  great  night  in  the  cave  when  Ab 
brought  home  two  fluffy  gray  bundles  not 
much  larger  than  kittens  and  tied  them  in  a 
corner  with  thongs  of  sinew,  sinew  so  tough 
and  stringy  that  it  could  not  easily  be  severed 
by  the  sharp  teeth  which  were  at  once  applied 
to  it.  The  fluffy  gray  bundles  were  two  young 
wolves,  and  were,  for  Ab,  a  great  possession. 
They  were  not  even  brother  and  sister,  these 
cubs,  and  had  been  gallantly  captured  by  the 
two  courageous  rangers,  Ab  and  Oak.  For 
some  time  the  boys  had  noted  lurking  shadows 
about  a  rugged  height  close  by  the  river,  some 
distance  below  the  cave  of  Ab,  and  had  re 
solved  upon  a  closer  investigation.  A  partic* 
ularly  ugly  brute  was  the  wo1*  of  the  cavs 


96  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

man's  time,  but  one  which,  when  not  in  pack, 
was  unlikely  to  assail  two  well-armed  and 
sturdy  youths  in  daylight;  and  the  result  of 
much  cautious  spying  was  that  they  found  two 
dens,  each  with  young  in  them,  and  at  a  time 
when  the  old  wolves  were  away.  In  one  den 
Ab  seized  upon  two  of  the  snarling  cubs  and 
Oak  did  the  same  in  the  other,  and  then  the 
raiders  fled  with  such  speed  as  was  in  them, 
until  they  were  at  a  safe  distance  from  the 
place  where  things  would  not  go  well  with 
them  should  the  robbed  parents  return.  Once 
in  safe  territory,  each  exchanged  a  cub  for 
one  seized  by  the  other  and  then  each  went 
home  in  triumph.  Ab  was  especially  de 
lighted.  He  was  determined  to  feed  his  cubs 
with  the  utmost  care  and  to  keep  them  alive 
and  growing.  He  was  full  of  the  fancy  and 
delighted  in  it,  but  he  had  assumed  a  great 
responsibility. 

The  cubs  were  tied  in  a  corner  of  the  cave 
and  at  once  commanded  the  attention  and  un 
bounded  admiration  of  Bark  and  Beechleaf. 
The  young  lady  especially  delighted  in  the 
little  beasts  and  could  usually  be  found  lying 
in  the  corner  with  them,  the  baby  wolves 
learning  in  time  to  play  with  her  as  if  she 


OLD  MOK,  THE  MENTOR  97 

were  a  wolf-suckled  cub  herself.  Bark  had 
almost  the  same  relations  with  the  little  brutes 
and  Ab  looked  after  them  most  carefully. 
Even  the  father  and  mother  became  interested 
in  the  antics  of  the  young  children  and  young 
wolves  and  the  cubs  became  acknowledged, 
if  not  particularly  respected,  members  of  the 
family.  But  Ab's  dream  was  too  much  for 
sudden  realization.  Not  all  at  once  could  the 
wild  thing  become  a  tame 'one.  As  the  cubs 
grew  and  their  teeth  became  longer  and 
sharper,  there  was  an  occasional  conflict  and 
the  arms  of  Bark  and  Beechleaf  were  scarred 
in  consequence,  until  at  last  Ab,  though  he 
protested  hardly,  was  compelled  to  give  up 
his  pets.  Somehow,  he  was  not  in  the  mood 
Jor  killing  the  half  grown  beasts,  and  so  he 
simply  turned  them  loose,  but  they  did  not, 
as  he  had  thought  they  would,  flee  to  the  for 
est.  They  had  known  almost  no  life  except 
that  of  the  cave,  they  had  got  their  meat  there 
and,  at  night,  the  twain  were  at  the  doorway 
whining  for  food.  To  them  were  tossed  some 
half-gnawed  bones  and  they  received  them 
with  joyous  yelps  and  snarls.  Thenceforth 
they  hung  about  the  cave  and  retained,  prac 
tically,  their  place  in  the  family,  oddly  enough 


98  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

showing  particular  animosity  to  those  of  their 
own  kind  who  ventured  near  the  place.  One 
day,  the  female  was  found  in  the  cave's  rear 
with  four  little  whelps  lying  beside  her,  and 
that  settled  it!  The  family  petted  the  young 
animals  and  they  grew  up  tamer  and  more 
obedient  than  had  been  their  father  and 
mother.  Protected  by  man,  they  were  un 
likely  to  revert  to  wildness.  Members  of  the 
pack  which  grew  from  them  were,  in  time, 
bestowed  as  valued  gifts  among  the  cave  men 
of  the  region  and  much  came  of  it.  The  two 
boys  did  a  greater  day's  work  than  they  could 
comprehend  when  they  raided  the  dens  by  the 
river's  side. 

But  there  was  much  beside  the  capture  of 
wolf  cubs  to  occupy  the  attention  of  the  boys. 
They  counted  themselves  the  finest  bird  hunt 
ers  in  the  community  and,  to  a  certain  extent, 
justified  the  proud  claim  made.  No  youths 
could  set  a  snare  more  deftly  or  hurl  a  stone 
more  surely,  and  there  was  much  bird  life  for 
them  to  seek.  The  bustard  fed  in  the  vast 
nut  forests,  the  capercailzie  was  proud  upon 
the  moors,  where  the  heath-cock  was  as 
jaunty,  and  the  willow  grouse  and  partridge 
were  wise  in  covert  to  avoid  the  hungry  snowy 


OLD  MOK,  THE  MENTOR  99 

owl.  Upon  the  river  and  lagoons  and  creeks 
the  swan  and  wild  goose  and  countless  duck 
made  constant  clamor,  and  there  were  water- 
rail  and  snipe  along  the  shallows.  There 
were  eggs  to  be  found,  and  an  egg  baked  in 
the  ashes  was  a  thing  most  excellent.  It  was 
with  the  waterfowl  that  the  boys  were  most 
successful.  The  ducks  would  in  their  feeding 
approach  close  to  the  shores  of  the  river 
banks  or  the  little  islands  and  would  gather 
in  bunches  so  near  to  where  the  boys  were 
hidden  that  the  young  hunters,  leaping  sud 
denly  to  their  feet  and  hurling  their  stones 
together,  rarely  failed  to  secure  at  least  a 
single  victim.  There  were  muskrats  along 
the  banks  and  there  was  a  great  beaver, 
which  was  not  abundant,  and  which  was  a 
mighty  creature  of  his  kind.  Of  muskrats  the 
coys  speared  many — and  roasted  muskrat  is 
so  good  that  it  is  eaten  by  the  Indians  and 
some  of  the  white  hunters  in  Canada  to-day — • 
but  the  big  beaver  they  did  not  succeed  in 
capturing  at  this  stage  of  their  career.  Once 
they  saw  a  seal,  which  had  come  up  the  river 
from  the  sea,  and  pursued  it,  running  along 
the  banks  for  miles,  but  it  proved  as  elusive 
as  the  great  beaver. 


IQ0  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

But,  as  a  matter  of  course,  it  was  upon  land 
that  the  greatest  sport  was  had.  There  were 
the  wild  hogs,  but  the  hogs  were  wary  and 
the  big  boars  dangerous,  and  it  was  only  when 
a  litter  of  the  young  could  be  pounced  upon 
somewhere  that  flint-headed  spears  were  fully 
up  to  the  emergency.  On  such  occasions 
there  was  fine  pigsticking,  and  then  the  atmos 
phere  in  the  caves  would  be  made  fascinating 
with  the  odor  of  roasting  suckling.  There  is 
a  story  by  a  great  and  gentle  writer  telling 
how  a  Chinaman  first  discovered  the  beauties 
of  roast  pig.  It  is  an  admirable  tale  and  it  is 
well  that  it  was  written,  but  the  cave  man, 
many  tens  of  thousands  of  years  before  there 
was  a  China,  yielded  to  the  allurements  of 
young  pig,  and  sought  him  accordingly. 

The  musk-ox,  which  still  mingled  with  the 
animals  of  the  river  basin,  was  almost  as  diffi 
cult  of  approach  as  in  arctic  wilds  to-day,  as 
was  a  small  animal,  half  goat,  half  antelope, 
which  fed  upon  the  rocky  hillsides  or  wherever 
the  high  reaches  were.  There  were  squirrels 
in  the  trees,  but  they  were  seldom  caught,  and 
the  tailless  hare  which  fed  in  the  river  mead 
ows  was  not  easily  approached  and  was  swift 
as  the  sea  wind  in  its  flight,  swifter  than  a 


OLD  MOK,  THE  MENTOR  IOI 

sort  of  fox  which  sought  it  constantly.  But 
the  burrowing  things  were  surer  game.  There 
were  martens  and  zerboas,  and  marmots  and 
hedgehogs  and  badgers,  all  good  to  eat  and 
attainable  to  those  who  could  dig  as  could 
these  brawny  youths.  The  game  once  driven 
to  its  hole,  the  clamshell  and  the  sharpened 
fire-hardened  spade-stick  were  brought  into 
use  and  the  fate  of  the  animal  sought  was 
rarely  long  in  doubt.  It  is  true  that  the  scene 
lacked  one  element  very  noticeable  when  boys 
dig  out  any  animal  to-day.  There  was  not 
the  inevitable  and  important  dog,  but  the 
youths  were  swift  of  sight  and  quick  of  hand, 
and  the  hidden  creature,  once  unearthed,  sel 
dom  escaped.  One  of  the  prizes  of  those 
feats  of  excavation  was  the  badger,  for  not 
only  was  it  edible,  but  its  snow-white  teeth, 
perforated  and  strung  on  sinew,  made  neck 
laces  which  were  highly  valued. 

The  youths  did  not  think  of  attacking  many 
of  the  dangerous  brutes.  They  might  have 
risked  the  issue  with  a  small  leopard  which 
existed  then,  or  faced  the  wildcat,  but  what 
they  sought  most  was  the  wolverine,  because 
it  had  fur  so  long  and  oddly  marked,  and  be 
cause  it  was  braver  than  other  animals  of  its 


102.  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

size  and  came  more  boldly  to  some  bait  of 
meat,  affording  opportunity  for  fine  spear- 
throwing.  And,  apropos  of  the  wolverine, 
the  glutton,  as  it  is  called  in  Europe,  it  is 
something  still  admired.  It  is  a  vicious, 
bloodthirsty,  unchanging  and,  to  the  widely-in 
formed  and  scientifically  sentimental,  lovable 
animal.  It  is  vicious  and  bloodthirsty  be 
cause  that  is  its  nature.  It  is  lovable  because, 
through  all  the  generations,  it  has  come  down 
just  the  same.  The  cave  man  knew  it  just  as 
it  is  now;  the  early  Teuton  knew  it  when 
"hides"  of  land  were  the  rewards  of  warriors. 
The  Roman  knew  it  when  he  made  forays  to 
the  far  north  for  a  few  centuries  and  learned 
how  sharp  were  the  blades  of  the  Rhine-folk 
and  the  Briton.  The  Druid  and  the  Angle  and 
Jute  and  Saxon  knew  it,  and  it  is  known  to-day 
in  all  northern  Europe  and  Asia  and  America, 
in  fact,  in  nearly  all  the  northern  temperate 
zone.  The  wolverine  is  something  wonderful; 
it  laughs  at  the  ages;  its  bones,  found  side  by 
side  with  those  of  the  cave  hyena,  are  the 
same  as  those  found  in  its  body  as  it  exists  to 
day.  It  is  an  anomaly,  an  animal  which  does 
not  advance  nor  retrograde. 

The  two  big  boys  grew  daily  in  the  science 


OLD  MOK,  THE  MENTOR  103 

of  gaining  food  and  grew  more  and  more  of 
importance  in  their  respective  households. 
Sometimes  either  one  of  them  might  hunt 
alone,  but  this  was  not  the  rule.  It  was  safer 
for  two  than  one,  when  the  forest  was  invaded 
deeply.  But  not  all  their  time  was  spent  in 
evading  or  seeking  the  life  of  such  living 
things  as  they  might  discover.  They  had  a 
home  life  sometimes  as  entertaining  as  the 
life  found  anywhere  outside. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

DOINGS    AT    HOME. 

THOSE  were  happy  times  in  the  cave,  where 
Ab,  developing  now  into  an  exceedingly  stal 
wart  youth,  found  the  long  evenings  about  the 
fire  far  from  monotonous.  There  was  Mok, 
the  mentor,  who  had  grown  so  fond  of  him, 
and  there  was  most  interesting  work  to  do  in 
making  from  the  dark  flint  nodules  or  obsidian 
fragments — always  eagerly  seized  upon  when 
discovered  by  the  cave  people  in  their  wander 
ings — the  spearheads  and  rude  knives  and  skin 
scrapers  so  essential  to  their  needs.  The  flint 
nodule  was  but  a  small  mass  of  the  stone,  often 
somewhat  pear-shaped.  Though  apparently 
a  solid  mass,  composed  of  the  hardest  substance 
then  known,  it  lay  in  what  might  be  called  a 
series  of  flakes  about  a  center,  and,  in  wise 
hands,  these  flakes  could  be  chipped  or  pried 
away  unbroken.  The  flake,  once  won,  was 
often  slightly  concave  on  the  outside  and  con 
vex  on  the  other,  but  the  core  of  the  stone 
was  something  more  equally  balanced  in  for- 
104 


DOINGS  AT  HOME  105 

mation  and,  when  properly  finished,  made  a 
mighty  spearhead.  For  the  heavy  axes  and 
mallets,  other  stones,  such  as  we  now  call 
granite,  redstone  or  quartose  grit,  were  often 
used,  but  in  the  making  of  all  the  weapons 
was  required  the  exercise  of  infinite  skill  and 
patience.  To  make  the  flakes  symmetrical 
demanded  the  nicest  perception  and  judgment 
of  power  of  stroke,  for,  with  each  flake  gained, 
there  resulted  a  new  form  to  the  surface  of  the 
stone.  The  object  was  always  to  secure  a 
flake  with  a  point,  a  strong  middle  ridge  and 
sides  as  nearly  edged  as  possible.  And  in  the 
striking  off  of  these  flakes  and  their  finishing 
others  of  the  cave  men  were  to  old  Mok  as 
the  child  is  to  the  man. 

Ab  hung  about  the  old  man  at  his  work  and 
was  finally  allowed  to  help  him.  If,  at  first, 
the  boy  could  do  nothing  else,  he  could,  with 
his  flint  scraper,  work  industriously  at  the 
smoothing  of  the  long  spear  shafts,  and  when 
he  had  learned  to  do  well  at  this  he  was  at  last 
allowed  to  venture  upon  the  stone  chipping, 
especially  when  into  old  Mok's  possession  had 
come  a  piece  of  flint  the  quality  of  which  he 
did  not  quite  approve  and  for  the  ruining  of 
which  in  the  splitting  he  cared  but  little. 


106  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

There  were  disasters  innumerable  when  the 
boy  began  and  much  bad  stone  was  spoiled, 
but  he  had  a  will  and  a  good  eye  and  hand, 
and  it  came,  in  time,  that  he  could  strike  off  a 
flake  with  only  a  little  less  of  deftness  than  his 
teacher  and  that,  even  in  the  more  delicate 
work  of  the  finer  chipping  to  complete  the 
weapon,  he  was  a  workman  not  to  be  despised. 
He  had  an  ambition  in  it  all  and  old  Mok  was 
satisfied  with  what  he  did. 

The  boy  was  always  experimenting,  ever 
trying  a  new  flint  chipper  or  using  a  third  stone 
to  tap  delicately  the  one  held  in  the  hand  to 
make  the  fracture,  or  wondering  aloud  why  it 
would  not  be  well  to  make  this  flint  knife  a 
little  thinner,  or  that  spearhead  a  trifle  heavier. 
He  was  questioning  as  he  worked  and  some 
thing  of  a  nuisance  with  it  all,  but  old  Mok 
endured  with  what  was,  for  him,  an  astonish 
ing  degree  of  patience,  and  would  sometimes 
comment  grumblingly  to  the  effect  that  the 
boy  could  at  least  chip  stone  far  better  than 
some  men.  And  then  the  veteran  would  look 
at  One-Ear,  who  was,  notoriously,  a  bad  flint 
worker, — though,  a  weapon  once  in  his  grasp, 
there  were  few  could  use  it  with  surer  eye  or 
heavier  hand — and  would  chuckle  as  he  made 


DOINGS  AT  HOME  107 

the  comment.  As  for  One-Ear,  he  listened 
placidly  enough.  He  was  glad  a  son  of  his 
could  make  good  weapons.  So  much  the 
better  for  the  family! 

As  times  went,  Ab  was  a  tolerably  good  boy 
to  his  mother.  Nearly  all  young  cave  males 
were  good  boys  until  the  time  came  when  their 
thews  and  sinews  outmatched  the  strength  of 
those  who  had  borne  them,  and  this,  be  it  said, 
was  at  no  early  age,  for  the  woman,  hunting 
and  working  with  the  man,  was  no  maternal 
weakling  whose  buffet  was  unworthy  of  notice. 
A  blow  from  the  cave  mother's  hand  was  some 
thing  to  be  respected  and  avoided.  The  use 
of  strength  was  the  general  law,  and  the  cave 
woman,  though  she  would  die  for  her  young, 
yet  demanded  that  her  young  should  obey  her 
until  the  time  came  when  the  maternal  instinct 
of  first  direction  blended  with  and  was  finally 
lost  in  pride  over  the  force  of  the  being  to 
whom  she  had  given  birth.  So  Ab  had  vig 
orous  duties  about  the  household. 

As  has  been  told  already,  Red-Spot  was  a 
notable  housekeeper  and  there  was  such  prod 
uct  of  the  cave  cooking  as  would  make  happy 
any  gourmand  of  to-day  who  could  appreciate 
the  quality  of  what  had  a  most  natural  flavor. 


108  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

Regarding  her  kitchen  appliances  Red-Spot  had 
a  matron's  justifiable  pride.  Not  only  was 
there  the  wood  fire,  into  which,  held  on  long, 
pointed  sticks,  could  be  thrust  all  sorts  of 
meat  for  the  somewhat  smoky  broiling,  and 
the  hot  coals  and  ashes  in  which  could  be 
roasted  the  clams  and  the  clay-covered  fish, 
but  there  was  the  place  for  boiling,  which  only 
the  more  fortunate  of  the  cave  people  owned. 
Her  growing  son  had  aided  much  in  the 
attainment  of  this  good  housewife's  fond  de 
sire. 

With  much  travail,  involving  all  the  force  the 
cave  family  could  muster  and  including  the  as 
sistance  of  Oak's  father  and  of  Oak  himself, 
who  rejoiced  with  Ab  in  the  proceedings,  there 
had  been  rolled  into  the  cave  a  huge  sandstone 
rock  with  a  top  which  was  nearly  flat.  Here 
was  to  be  the  great  pot,  sometimes  used  as  a 
roasting  place,  as  well,  which  only  the  more 
pretentious  of  the  caves  could  boast.  On  the 
middle  of  the  big  stone's  uppermost  surface  old 
Mok  chipped  with  an  ax  the  outline  of  a  rude 
circle  some  two  feet  in  diameter.  This  de 
fined  roughly  the  size  of  the  kettle  to  be  made. 
Inside  the  circle,  the  sandstone  must  be  dug 
out  to  a  big  kettle's  proper  depth,  and  upoa 


DOINGS  AT  HOME  1 09 

the  boy,  Ab,  must  devolve  most  of  this  health 
ful  but  not  over-attractive  labor. 

The  boy  went  at  the  task  gallantly,  in  the 
beginning,  and  pecked  away  with  a  stone 
chisel  and  gained  a  most  respectable  hollow 
within  a  day  or  two,  but  his  enthusiasm  sub 
sided  with  the  continuity  of  much  effort  with 
small  result.  He  wanted  more  weight  to  his 
chisel  of  flint  set  firmly  in  reindeer's  horn,  and 
a  greater  impact  to  the  blows  into  which  could 
not  be  put  the  force  resulting  from  a  swing  of 
arm.  He  thought  much.  Then  he  secured  a 
long  stick  and  bound  his  chisel  strongly  to  it  at 
one  end,  the  top  of  the  chisel  resting  against  a 
projecting  stub  of  limb,  so  that  it  could  not  be 
driven  upward.  To  the  other  end  of  the  stick 
he  bound  a  stone  of  some  pounds  in  weight 
and  then,  holding  the  shaft  with  both  hands, 
lifted  it  and  let  the  whole  drop  into  the  depres 
sion  he  had  already  made.  The  flint  chisel 
bit  deeply  under  the  heavy  impact  and  the 
days  were  few  before  Ab  had  dug  in  the  sand 
stone  rock  a  cavity  which  would  hold  much 
meat  and  water.  There  was  an  unconscious 
celebration  when  the  big  kettle  was  completed. 
It  was  nearly  filled  with  water,  and  into  the 
water  were  flung  great  chunks  of  the  meat  of  g 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

reindeer  killed  that  day.  Meanwhile,  the  cave 
fire  had  been  replenished  with  dry  wood  and 
there  had  been  formed  a  wide  bed  of  coals, 
upon  which  were  cast  numerous  stones  of 
moderate  size,  which  soon  attained  a  shining 
heat.  A  sort  of  tongs  made  of  green  withes 
served  to  remove  the  stones,  one  after  another, 
from  the  mass  of  coal,  and  drop  them  in  with 
the  meat  and  water.  Within  a  little  time  the 
water  was  fairly  boiling  and  soon  there  was  a 
monster  stew  giving  forth  rich  odors  and  ready 
to  be  eaten.  And  it  was  not  allowed  to  get 
over-cool  after  that  summoning  fragrance  had 
once  extended  throughout  the  cave.  There 
was  a  rush  for  the  clam  shells  which  served 
for  soup  dishes  or  cups,  there  was  spearing 
with  sharpened  sticks  for  pieces  of  the  boiled 
meat,  and  all  were  satisfied,  though  there  was 
shrill  complaint  from  Bark,  whose  turn  at  the 
kettle  came  late,  and  much  clamor  from 
chubby  Beech-leaf,  who  was  not  yet  tall 
enough  to  help  herself,  but  who  was  cared  for 
by  the  mother.  It  may  be  that,  to  some 
people  of  to-day,  the  stew  would  be  counted 
lacking  in  quality  of  seasoning,  but  an  opinion 
upon  seasoning  depends  largely  upon  the 
stomach  and  the  time,  and,  besides,  it  may  be 


DOINGS  AT  HOME  III 

that  the  dirt  clinging  to  the  stones  cast  into 
the  water  gave  a  certain  flavor  as  fine  in  its 
way  as  could  be  imparted  by  salt  and  pepper. 
Old  Mok,  observing  silently,  had  decidedly 
approved  of  Ab's  device  for  easier  digging  into 
sandstone  than  was  the  old  manner  of  pecking 
away  with  a  chisel  held  in  the  hand.  He  was 
almost  disposed  now  to  admit  the  big  lad  to 
something  like  a  plane  of  equality  in  the  work 
they  did  together.  He  became  more  affable 
in  their  converse,  and  the  youth  was,  in  the 
same  degree,  delighted  and  ambitious,  They 
experimented  with  the  stick  and  weight  and 
chisel  in  accomplishing  the  difficult  work  of 
splitting  from  boulders  the  larger  fragments  of 
stone  from  which  weapons  were  to  be  made, 
and  learned  that  by  heavy,  steady  pressure  of 
the  breast,  thus  augmented  by  heavy  weight, 
they  could  fracture  more  evenly  than  by  blow 
of  stone,  ax  or  hammer.  They  learned  that 
two  could  work  together  in  stone  chipping  and 
do  better  work  than  one.  Old  Mok  would 
hold  the  forming  weapon-head  in  one  hand 
and  the  horn-hafted  chisel  in  another,  press 
ing  the  blade  close  against  the  stone  and  at 
just  such  angle  as  would  secure  the  result  he 
sought,  while  Ab,  advised  as  to  the  force  of 


112  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

each  succeeding  stroke,  tapped  lightly  upon 
the  chisel's  head.  Woe  was  it  for  the  boy  if 
once  he  missed  his  stroke  and  caught  the  old 
man's  fingers!  Very  delicate  became  the  chip 
ping  done  by  these  two  artists,  and  excellent 
beyond  any  before  made  were  the  axes  and 
spearheads  produced  by  what,  in  modern 
times,  would  have  been  known  under  the  title 
of  "OldMok&Co." 

At  this  time,  too,  Ab  took  lessons  in  making 
all  the  varied  articles  of  elk  or  reindeer  horn 
and  the  drinking  cups  from  the  horns  of  urus 
and  aurochs.  Old  Mok  even  went  so  far  as  to 
attempt  teaching  the  youth  something  of  carv 
ing  figures  upon  tusks  and  shoulder  blades, 
but  in  this  art  Ab  never  greatly  excelled.  He 
was  too  much  a  creature  of  action.  The  bone 
needles  used  by  Red-Spot  in  making  skin  gar 
ments  he  could  form  readily  enough  and  he 
made  whistles  for  Bark  and  Beech-leaf,  but 
his  inclinations  were  all  toward  larger  things. 
To  become  a  fighter  and  a  hunter  remained 
his  chief  ambition. 

Rather  keen,  with  light  snows  but  nipping 
airs,  were  the  winters  of  this  country  of  the 
cave  men,  and  there  were  articles  of  food  es 
sential  to  variety  which  were,  necessarily, 


DOINGS  AT  HOME  113 

Stored  before  the  cold  season  came.  There 
were  roots  which  were  edible  and  which  could 
be  dried,  and  there  were  nuts  in  abundance, 
beyond  all  need.  Beechnuts  and  acorns  were 
gathered  in  the  autumn,  the  children  at  this 
time  earning  fully  the  right  of  home  and  food, 
and  the  stores  were  heaped  in  granaries  dug 
into  the  cave's  sides.  Should  the  snow  at  any 
time  fall  too  deeply  for  hunting — though  such 
an  occurrence  was  very  rare — or  should  any 
other  cause,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  appear 
ance  of  the  great  cave  tiger  in  the  region, 
make  the  game  scarce  and  hunting  perilous, 
there  was  the  recourse  of  nuts  and  roots  and 
no  danger  of  starvation.  There  was  no  fear 
of  suffering  from  thirst.  Man  early  learned  to 
carry  water  in  a  pouch  of  skin  and  there  were 
sometimes  made  rock  cavities,  after  the  man 
ner  of  the  cave  kettle,  where  water  could  be 
stored  for  an  emergency.  Besieging  wild 
beasts  could  embarrass  but  could  not  greatly 
alarm  the  family,  for,  with  store  of  wood  and 
food  and  water,  the  besieged  could  wait,  and 
it  was  not  well  for  the  flesh-seeking  quadruped 
to  approach  within  a  long  spear-thrust's  length 
of  the  cavern's  narrow  entrance. 

The  winter  following  the  establishment  of 


114  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

Ab's  real  companionship  with  Old  Mok,  as  it 
chanced,  was  not  a  hard  one.  There  fell  snow 
enough  for  tracking,  but  not  so  deeply  as  to 
incommode  the  hunter.  There  had  been  a 
wonderful  nut-fall  in  the  autumn  and  the  cave 
was  stored  with  such  quantity  of  this  food  that 
there  was  no  chance  of  real  privation.  The 
ice  was  clean  upon  the  river  and  through  the 
holes  hacked  with  stone  axes  fish  were  dragged 
forth  in  abundance  upon  the  rude  bone  and 
stone  hooks,  which  served  their  purpose  far 
better  than  when,  in  summer  time,  the  line 
was  longer  and  the  fish  escaped  so  often  from 
the  barbless  implements.  It  was  a  great  sea 
son  in  all  that  made  a  cave  family's  life  some 
thing  easy  and  complacent  and  vastly  promotive 
of  the  social  amenities  and  the  advancement 
of  art  and  literature — that  is,  they  were  not 
compelled  to  make  any  sudden  raid  on  others 
to  assure  the  means  of  subsistence,  and  there 
was  time  for  the  carving  of  bones  and  the  tell 
ing  of  strange  stories  of  the  past.  The  elders 
declared  it  one  of  the  finest  winters  they  had 
ever  known. 

And  so  Old  Mok  and  Ab  worked  well  that 
winter  and  the  youth  acquired  such  wisdom 
that  his  casual  advice  to  Oak  when  the  two 


DOINGS  AT  HOME  115 

were  out  together  was  something  worth  listen 
ing  to  because  of  its  confidence  and  ponderosity. 
Concerning  flint  scraper,  drill,  spearhead,  ax 
or  bone  or  wooden  haft,  there  was,  his  talk 
would  indicate,  practically  nothing  for  the  boy 
to  learn.  That  was  his  own  opinion,  though, 
as  he  grew  older,  he  learned  to  modify  it 
greatly.  With  his  adviser  he  had  made  good 
weapons  and  some  improvements;  yet  all  this 
was  nothing.  It  was  destined  that  an  acci 
dental  discovery  should  be  his,  the  effect  of 
which  would  be  to  change  the  cave  man's  rank 
among  living  things.  But  the  youth,  just 
now,  was  greatly  content  with  himself.  He 
was  older  and  more  modest  when  he  made  his 
great  discovery. 

It  was  when  the  fire  blazed  out  at  night, 
when  all  had  fed,  when  the  tired  people  lay 
about  resting,  but  not  ready  yet  for  sleep,  and 
the  story  of  the  day's  events  was  given,  that 
Old  Mok's  ordinarily  still  tongtie  would  some 
times  loosen  and  he  would  tell  of  what  hap 
pened  when  he  was  a  boy,  or  of  the  strange 
tales  which  had  been  told  him  of  the  time  long 
past,  the  times  when  the  Shell  and  Cave 
people  were  one,  times  when  there  were  mon 
strous  things  abroad  and  life  was  hard  to  keep. 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 


To  all  these  legends  the  hearers  listened  won- 
deringly,  and  upon  them  afterward  Ab  and 
Oak  would  sometimes  speculate  together  and 
question  as  to  their  truth. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OLD   MOK'S   TALES. 

IT  was  worth  while  listening  to  Old  Mok 
when  he  forgot  himself  and  talked  and  became 
earnestly  reminiscent  in  telling  of  what  he  had 
seen  or  had  heard  when  he  was  young.  One 
day  there  had  been  trouble  in  the  cave,  for  Bark, 
left  in  charge,  had  neglected  the  fire  and  it  had 
"gone  out,"  and  upon  the  return  of  his  par 
ents  there  had  been  blows  and  harsh  lan 
guage,  and  then  much  pivotal  grinding  to 
gether  of  dry  sticks  before  a  new  flame  was 
gained,  arid  it  was  only  after  the  odor  of 
cooked  flesh  filled  the  place  and  strong  jaws 
were  busy  that  the  anger  of  One- Ear  had 
abated  and  the  group  became  a  comfortable 
one.  Ab  had  come  in  hungry  and  the  value 
of  fire,  after  what  had  happened,  was  brought 
to  his  mind  forcibly.  He  laid  himself  down 
upon  the  cave's  floor  near  Old  Mok,  who  was 
fashioning  a  shaft  of  some  sort,  and,  as  he  lay, 
poked  his  toes  at  Beechleaf,  who  chuckled 
gurgled  as  she  rolled  about,  never  for  a 

117 


Il8  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

moment  relinquishing  a  portion  of  the  slender 
shin  bone  of  a  deer,  upon  the  flesh  of  which 
the  family  had  fed.  It  was  a  short  piece  but 
full  of  marrow,  and  the  child  sucked  and 
mumbled  away  at  it  in  utmost  bliss.  Ab 
thought,  somehow,  of  how  poor  would  have 
been  the  eating  with  the  meat  uncooked,  and 
looked  at  his  hands,  still  reddened  — for  it  was 
he  who  had  twisted  the  stick  which  made  the 
fire  again.  "Fire  is  good!"  he  said  to  Mok. 

The  old  man  kept  his  flint  scraper  going  for 
a  moment  or  two  before  he  answered;  then  he 
grunted: 

"Yes,  it's  good  if  you  don't  get  burned. 
I've  been  burned,"  and  he  thrust  out  an  arm 
upon  which  appeared  a  cicatrice. 

Ab  was  interested.  "Where  did  you  gef 
that?"  he  queried. 

"Far  from  here,  far  beyond  the  black 
swamp  and  the  red  hills  that  are  farther  still. 
It  was  when  I  was  strong. " 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  said  the  youth. 

"There  is  a  fire  country,"  answered  Old 
Mok,  "away  beyond  the  swamp  and  woods 
and  the  place  of  the  big  rocks.  It  is  a 
wonderful  place.  The  fire  comes  out  of  the 
ground  in  long  sheets  and  it  is  always  the 


OLD  MOK'S  TALES  Iig 

same.  The  rain  and  the  snow  do  not  stop  it. 
Do  I  not  know?  Have  I  not  seen  it?  Did  I 
not  get  this  scar  going  too  near  the  flame  and 
stumbling  and  falling  against  a  hot  rock  almost 
within  it?  There  is  too  much  fire  sometimes!" 

The  old  man  continued:  " There  are  many 
places  of  fire.  They  are  to  the  east  and  south. 
Some  of  the  Shell  People  who  have  gone  far 
down  the  river  have  seen  them.  But  the  one 
where  I  was  burned  is  not  so  far  away  as 
they;  it  is  up  the  river  to  the  northwest." 

And  Ab  was  interested  and  questioned  Old 
Mok  further  about  the  strange  region  where 
flames  came  from  the  ground  as  bushes  grow, 
and  where  snow  or  water  did  not  make  them 
disappear.  He  was  destined,  at  a  later  day, 
to  be  very  glad  that  he  had  learned  the  little 
that  was  told  him.  But  to-night  he  was  in 
tent  only  on  getting  all  the  tales  he  could 
from  the  veteran  while  he  was  in  the  mood. 
'  'Tell  about  the  Shell  People,"  he  cried,  "and 
who  they  are  and  where  they  came  from. 
They  are  different  from  us." 

"Yes,  they  are  different  from  us,"  said  Old 
Mok,  ' '  but  there  was  a  time,  I  have  heard  it 
told,  when  we  were  like  them.  The  very  old 
men  say  that  their  grandfathers  told  them 


120  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

that  once  there  were  only  Shell  People  any 
where  in  this  country,  the  people  who  lived 
along  the  shores  and  who  never  hunted  nor 
went  far  away  from  the  little  islands,  because 
they  were  afraid  of  the  beasts  in  the  forests. 
Sometimes  they  would  venture  into  the  wood 
to  gather  nuts  and  roots,  but  they  lived  mostly 
on  the  fish  and  clams.  But  there  came  a 
time  when  brave  men  were  born  among  them 
who  said  they  would  have  more  of  the  forest 
things,  and  that  they  would  no  longer  stay 
fearfully  upon  the  little  islands.  So  they 
came  into  the  forest  and  the  Cave  Men  began. 
And  I  think  this  story  true." 

" I  think  it  is  true,"  Old  Mok  continued, 
' '  because  the  Shell  People,  you  can  see,  must 
have  lived  very  long  where  they  are  now. 
Up  and  down  the  creek  where  they  live  and 
along  other  creeks  there  lie  banks  of  earth 
which  are  very  long  and  reach  far  back. 
And  this  is  not  really  earth,  but  is  all  made 
up  of  shells  and  bones  and  stone  spearheads 
and  the  things  which  lie  about  a  Shell  Man's 
place.  I  know,  for  I  have  dug  into  these  long 
banks  myself  and  have  seen  that  of  which  I 
tell.  Long,  very  long,  must  the  Shell  People 
have  lived  along  the  creeks  and  shores  to 


OLD  MOK'S  TALES  121 

have  made  the  banks  of  bones  and  shells  so 
high." 

And  Old  Mok  was  right.  They  talk  of  us 
as  the  descendants  of  an  Aryan  race.  Never 
from  Aryan  alone  came  the  drifting,  changing 
Western  being  of  to-day.  But  a  part  of  him 
was  born  where  bald  plains  were  or  where 
were  olive  trees  and  roses.  Ail  modern  science, 
and  modern  thoughtfulness,  and  all  later 
broadened  intelligence  are  yielding  to  an  ad 
mission  of  the  fact  that  he,  though  of  course 
commingling  with  his  visitors  of  the  ages,  was 
born  and  changed  where  he  now  exists.  The 
kitchen-midden — the  name  given  by  scientists 
to  refuse  from  his  dwelling  places — the  kitchen- 
middens  of  Denmark,  as  Denmark  is  to-day, 
alone,  regardless  of  other  fields,  suffice  to  tell 
a  wondrous  story.  Imagine  a  kitchen-mid 
den,  that  is  to  say  the  detritus  of  ordinary 
living  in  different  ages,  accumulated  along  the 
side  of  some  ancient  water  course,  having  for 
its  dimensions  miles  in  length,  extending 
hundreds  of  yards  back  from  the  margin  of 
this  creek,  of  tens  and  tens  of  thousands  of 
years  ago,  and  having  a  depth  of  often  many 
feet  along  this  water  course.  Imagine  this 
vast  deposit  telling  the  history  of  a  thousand 


122  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

centuries  or  more,  beginning  first  with  the  de 
posit  of  clams  and  mussel  shells  and  of  the 
shells  of  such  other  creatures  as  might  in 
habit  this  river  seeking  its  way  to  the  North 
Sea.  Imagine  this  deposit  increasing  year 
after  year  and  century  by  century,  but  chang 
ing  its  character  and  quality  as  it  rose,  and 
the  base  is  laid  for  reasoning. 

At  first  these  creatures  who  ranged  up  and 
down  the  ancient  Danish  creek  and  devoured 
the  clams  and  periwinkles  must  have  been,  as 
one  might  say,  but  little  more  than  surely 
anthropoid.  Could  such  as  these  have  mi 
grated  from  the  Asiatic  plateaus? 

The  kitchen-middens  tell  the  early  story 
with  greater  accuracy  than  could  any  writer 
who  ever  lifted  pen.  Here  the  creek-loving, 
ape-like  creatures  ranged  up  and  down  and 
quelled  their  appetites.  They  died  after  they 
had  begotten  sons  and  daughters;  and  to 
these  sons  and  daughters  came  an  added  in 
telligence,  brought  from  experience  and  shift 
ing  surroundings.  The  kitchen-middens  give 
graphic  details.  The  bottom  layer,  as  has 
been  said,  is  but  of  shells.  Above  it,  in  an 
other  layer,  counting  thousands  of  years  in 
growth,  appear  the  cracked  bones  of  thea 


OLD  MOK'S  TALES  123 

existing  animals  and  appear  also  traces  of 
charred  wood,  showing  that  primitive  man 
had  learned  what  fire  was.  And  later  come 
the  rudely  carved  bones  of  the  mammoth  and 
woolly  rhinoceros  and  the  Irish  elk;  then  come 
rude  flint  instruments,  and  later  the  age  of 
smoothed  stone,  with  all  its  accompanying 
fossils,  bones  and  indications;  and  so  on  up 
ward,  with  a  steady  sweep,  until  close  to  the 
surface  of  this  kitchen-midden  appear  the 
bronze  spear,  the  axhead  and  the  rude  dag 
ger  of  the  being  who  became  the  Druid  and 
who  is  an  ancestor  whom  we  recognize. 
From  the  kitchen-midden  to  the  pinnacle  of 
all  that  is  great  to-day  extends  a  chain  not  a 
link  of  which  is  weak. 

"They  tell  strange  stories,  too,  the  Shell 
People,"  Old  Mok  continued,  "for  they  are 
greater  story-tellers  than  the  Cave  Men  are, 
more  of  them  being  together  in  one  place,  and 
the  old  men  always  tell  the  tales  to  the  chil 
dren  so  that  they  are  never  forgotten  by  any 
of  the  people.  They  say  that  once  huge 
things  came  out  of  the  great  waters  and  up 
the  creeks,  such  as  even  the  big  cave  tiger 
dare  not  face.  And  the  old  men  say  that 
their  grandfathers  once  saw  with  their  owp 


124  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

eyes  a  monster  serpent  many  times  as  large 
as  the  one  you  two  saw,  which  came  swim 
ming  up  the  creek  and  seized  upon  the  river 
horses  there  and  devoured  them  as  easily  as 
the  cave  bear  would  a  little  deer.  And  the 
serpent  seized  upon  some  of  the  Cave  People 
who  were  upon  the  water  and  devoured  them 
as  well,  though  such  as  they  were  but  a 
mouthful  to  him.  And  this  tale,  too,  I  be- 
lieve,  for  the  old  Shell  Men  who  told  me  what 
their  grandfathers  had  seen  were  not  of  the 
foolish  sort." 

"But  of  another  sort  of  story  they  have 
told  me,"  Mok  continued,  "I  think  little. 
The  old  men  tell  of  a  time  when  those  who 
went  down  the  river  to  the  greater  river  and 
followed  it  down  to  the  sea,  which  seems  to 
have  no  end,  saw  what  no  man  can  see- 
to-day.  But  they  do  not  say  that  their 
grandfathers  saw  these  things.  They  only  say 
that  their  grandfathers  told  of  what  had  been 
told  them  by  their  grandfathers  farther  back, 
of  a  story  which  had  come  down  to  them,  so 
old  that  it  was  older  than  the  great  trees 
were,  of  monstrous  things  which  swam  along 
the  shores  and  which  were  not  serpents, 
though  they  had  long  necks  and  serpent  heads, 


OLD  MOK'S  TALES  125 

because  they  had  great  bodies  which  were 
driven  by  flippers  through  the  water  as  the 
beaver  goes  with  his  broad  feet.  And  at  the 
same  time,  the  old  story  goes,  were  great 
birds,  far  taller  than  a  man,  who  fed  where 
now  the  bustards  and  the  capercailzie  are. 
And  these  tales  I  do  not  believe,  though  I 
have  seen  bones  washed  from  the  riversides 
and  hillsides  by  the  rains  which  must  have 
come  from  creatures  different  from  those  we 
meet  now  in  the  forests  or  the  waters.  They 
are  wonderful  story-tellers,  the  old  men  of  the 
Shell  People." 

"And  they  tell  other  strange  stories,"  con 
tinued  the  old  man.  "They  say  that  very  long 
ago  the  cold  and  ice  came  down,  and  all  the 
people  and  animals  fled  before  it,  and  that  the 
summer  was  cold  as  now  the  winter  is,  and 
that  the  men  and  beasts  fled  together  to  the 
south,  and  were  there  for  a  long  time,  but 
came  back  again  as  the  cold  and  ice  went 
back.  They  say,  too,  that  in  still  later  times, 
the  fireplaces  where  the  flames  came  out  of 
great  cracks  in  the  earth  were  in  tens  of 
places  where  they  are  in  one  now,  and  that, 
even  in  the  ice  time,  the  flames  came  up,  and 
that  the  ice  was  melted  and  then  ran  in  rivers 


126  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

to  the  sea.  And  these  things  I  do  not  believe, 
for  how  can  men  tell  of  what  there  was  so 
long  ago?  They  are  but  the  gabblings  of  the 
old,  who  talk  so  much." 

Many  other  stories  the  veteran  told,  but 
what  most  affected  Ab  was  his  account  of  the 
vale  of  fire.  He  hoped  to  see  it  sometime. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AB'S    GREAT    DISCOVERY. 

IT  may  be  that  never  in  what  was  destined 
to  be  a  life  of  many  changes  was  Ab  happier 
than  in  this  period  of  his  lusty  boyhood  and 
early  manhood,  when  there  was  so  much  that 
was  new,  when  he  was  full  of  hope  and  con 
fidence  and  of  ambition  regarding  what  a 
mighty  hunter  and  great  man  he  would  be 
come  in  time.  As  the  years  passed  he  was 
not  less  indefatigable  in  his  experiments,  and 
the  day  came  when  a  marvelous  success  fol 
lowed  one  of  them,  although,  like  most  inven 
tions,  it  was  suggested  in  the  most  trivial  and 
accidental  manner. 

It  chanced  one  afternoon  that  Ab,  a  young 
man  of  twenty  now,  had  returned  early  from 
the  wood  and  was  lying  lazily  upon  the  sward 
near  the  cave's  entrance,  while,  not  far  away, 
Bark  and  the  still  chubby  Beechleaf  were 
rolling  about.  The  boy  was  teasing  the  girl 
at  times  and  then  doing  something  to  amuse 
or  awe  her.  He  had  found  a  stiff  length  of 
twig  and  was  engaged  in  idly  bending  the  ends 
127 


128  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

together  and  then  letting  them  fly  apart  with 
a  snap,  meanwhile  advancing  toward  and 
threatening  with  the  impact  the  half-alarmed 
but  wholly  delighted  Beechleaf.  Tired  of  this, 
at  last,  Bark,  with  no  particular  intent,  drew 
forth  from  the  pouch  in  his  skin  cloak  a  string 
of  sinew,  and  drawing  the  ends  of  the  strong 
twig  somewhat  nearly  together,  attached  the 
cord  to  each,  thus  producing  accidentally  a 
petty  bow  of  most  rotund  proportions.  He 
found  that  the  string  twanged  joyously,  and,  to 
the  delight  of  Beechleaf,  kept  twanging  it  for 
such  time  as  his  boyish  temperament  would 
allow  a  single  occupation.  Then  he  picked 
from  the  ground  a  long,  slender  pencil  of 
white  wood,  a  sliver,  perhaps,  from  the  mak 
ing  of  a  spear  shaft,  and  began  strumming 
with  it  upon  the  taut  sinew  string.  This  made 
a  twang  of  a  new  sort,  and  again  the  boy  and 
girl  were  interested  temporarily.  But,  at  last, 
even  this  variation  of  amusement  with  the 
new  toy  became  monotonous,  and  Bark  ceased 
strumming  and  began  a  series  of  boyish  ex 
periments  with  his  plaything.  He  put  one 
end  of  the  stick  against  the  string  and  pushed 
it  back  until  the  other  end  would  press  against 
the  inside  of  the  twig,  and  the  result  would  be  a 


AB'S  GREAT  DISCOVERY  129 

taut,. new  figure  in  wood  and  string  which  would 
keep  its  form  even  when  laid  upon  the  ground. 
Bark  made  and  unmade  the  thing  a  time  or 
two,  and  then  came  great  disaster.  He  had 
drawn  the  little  stick,  so  held  in  the  way  we 
now  call  arrowwise,  back  nearly  to  the  point 
where  its  head  would  come  inside  the  bent 
twig  and  there  fix  itself,  when  the  slight  thing 
escaped  his  hands  and  flew  away. 

The  quiet  of  the  afternoon  was  broken  by  a 
piercing  childish  yell  which  lacked  no  element 
of  earnestness.  Ab  leaped  to  his  feet  and 
was  by  the  youngsters  in  a  moment.  He  saw 
the  terrified  Beechleaf  standing,  screaming 
still,  with  a  fat  arm  outheld,  from  which 
dangled  a  little  shaft  of  wood  which  had 
pierced  the  flesh  just  deeply  enough  to  give  i-: 
hold.  Bark  stood  looking  at  her,  astonished 
and  alarmed.  Understanding  nothing  of  the 
circumstances,  and  supposing  the  girl's  hurt 
came  from  Bark's  careless  flinging  of  sticks 
toward  her,  Ab  started  toward  his  brother  to 
administer  one  of  those  buffets  which  were 
so  easy  to  give  or  get  among  cave  children. 
But  Bark  darted  behind  a  convenient  tree  and 
there  shrieked  out  his  innocence  of  dire  intent, 
just  as  the  boy  of  to-day  so  fluently  defends 


13°  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

himself  in  any  strait  where  castigation  looms 
in  sight.  He  told  of  the  queer  plaything  he 
had  made,  and  offered  to  show  how  all  had 
happened. 

Ab  was  doubtful  but  laughing  now,  for  the 
little  shaft,  which  had  scarcely  pierced  the 
skin  of  Beechleaf's  arm  had  fallen  to  the 
ground  and  that  young  person's  fright  had 
given  way  to  vengeful  indignation  and  she  was 
demanding  that  Bark  be  hit  with  something. 
He  allowed  the  sinner  to  give  his  proof.  Bark, 
taking  his  toy,  essayed  to  show  how  Beechleaf 
had  been  injured.  He  was  the  most  unfortu 
nate  of  youths.  He  succeeded  but  too  well. 
The  mimic  arrow  flew  again  and  the  sound 
that  rang  out  now  was  not  the  cry  of  a  child. 
It  was  the  yell  of  a  great  youth,  who  felt  a 
sudden  and  poignant  hurt,  and  who  was  not 
maintaining  any  dignity.  Had  Bark  been  as 
sure  of  hand  and  certain  of  aim  as  any  archer 
who  lived  in  later  centuries  he  could  not  have 
sent  an  arrow  more  fairly  to  its  mark  than  he 
sent  that  admirable  sliver  into  the  chest  of  his 
big  brother.  For  a  second  the  culprit  stood 
with  staring  eyes,  then  dropped  his  toy  and 
flew  into  the  forest  with  a  howl  which  beto- 


AB'S  GREAT  DISCOVERY  I31 

kened  his  fear  of  something  little  less  than 
sudden  death. 

Ab's  first  impulse  was  to  pursue  his  sinful 
younger  brother,  but,  after  the  first  leap,  he 
checked  himself  and  paused  to  pluck  away 
the  thing  which,  so  light  the  force  that  had 
impelled  it,  had  not  gone  deeply  in.  He 
knew  now  that  Bark  was  really  blameless,  and, 
picking  up  the  abandoned  plaything,  began 
its  examination  thoughtfully  and  curiously. 

The  young  man's  instinct  toward  experiment 
exhibited  itself  as  usual  and  he  put  the  splinter 
against  the  string  and  drew  it  back  and  let  it 
fly  as  he  had  seen  Bark  do — that  promising 
sprig,  by  the  way,  being  now  engaged  in  peer 
ing  from  the  wood  and  trying  to  form  an  esti 
mate  as  to  whether  or  not  his  return  was  yet 
advisable.  Ab  learned  that  the  force  of  the 
bent  twig  would  throw  the  sliver  farther  than 
he  could  toss  it  with  his  hand,  and  he  won 
dered  what  would  follow  were  something  like 
this  plaything,  the  device  of  which  Bark  had 
so  stumbled  upon,  to  be  made  and  tried  on  a 
greater  scale.  "I'll  make  one  like  it,  only 
larger,"  he  said  to  himself. 

The  venturesome  but  more  or  less  diplomatic 
Bark  had,  by  this  time,  emerged  from  the 


132  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

wood  and  was  apprehensively  edging  up  to 
ward  the  place  where  Ab  was  standing.  The 
older  brother  saw  him  and  called  to  him  to 
eome  and  try  the  thing  again  and  the  young 
ster  knew  that  he  was  safe.  Then  the  two 
toyed  with  the  plaything  for  an  hour  or  two 
and  Ab  became  more  and  more  interested  in 
its  qualities.  He  had  no  definite  idea  as  to  its 
possibilities.  He  thought  only  of  it  as  a  cu 
rious  thing  which  should  be  larger. 

The  next  day  Ab  hacked  from  a  low-limbed 
tree  a  branch  as  thick  as  his  finger  and  about 
a  yard  in  length,  and,  first  trimming  it,  bent 
it  as  Bark  had  bent  the  twig  and  tied  a  strong 
sinew  cord  across.  It  was  a  not  discreditable 
bow,  considering  the  fact  that  it  was  the  first 
ever  made,  though  one  end  was  smaller  than 
the  other  and  it  was  rough  of  outline.  Then 
Ab  cut  a  straight  willow  twig,  as  long  nearly 
as  the  bow,  and  began  repeating  the  experi 
ments  of  the  day  before.  Never  was  man 
more  astonished  than  this  youth  after  he  had 
drawn  the  twig  back  nearly  to  its  head  and 
let  it  go! 

So  drawn  by  a  strong  arm,  the  shaft  when 
released  flew  faster  and  farther  than  the  maker 
of  what  he  thought  of  chiefly  as  a  thing  of 


AB'S  GREAT  DISCOVERY  133 

sport  had  imagined  could  be  possible.  He 
had  long  to  search  for  the  headless  arrow  and 
when  he  found  it  he  went  away  to  where  were 
bare  open  stretches,  that  he  might  see  always 
where  it  fell.  Once  as  he  sent  it  from  the 
string  it  struck  fairly  against  an  oak  and, 
pointless  as  it  was,  forced  itself  deeply  into 
the  hard  brown  bark  and  hung  there  quivering. 
Then  came  to  the  youth  a  flash  of  thought 
which  had  its  effect  upon  the  ages:  "What 
if  there  had  been  a  point  to  the  flying  thing 
and  it  had  struck  a  reindeer  or  any  of  the 
hunted  animals?" 

He  pulled  the  shaft  from  the  tree  and  stood 
there  pondering  for  a  moment  or  two,  then 
suddenly  started  running  toward  the  cave. 
He  must  see  Old  Mok! 

The  old  man  was  at  work  and  alone  and 
the  young  man  told  him,  somewhat  excitedly, 
why  he  had  thus  come  running  to  him.  The 
elder  listened  with  some  patience  but  with  a 
commiserating  grin  upon  his  face.  He  had 
heard  young  men  tell  of  great  ideas  before,  of 
a  new  and  better  way  of  digging  pits,  or  of 
fishing,  or  making  deadfalls  for  wild  beasts. 
But  he  listened  and  yielded  finally  to  Ab's 
earnest  demand  that  he  should  hobble  out  into 


134  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

the  open  and  see  with  his  own  eyes  how  the 
strung  bow  would  send  the  shaft.  They  went 
together  to  an  open  space,  and  again  and  again 
Ab  showed  to  his  old  friend  what  the  new 
thing  would  do.  With  the  second  shot  there 
came  a  new  light  into  the  eyes  of  the  veteran 
hunter  and  he  bade  Ab  run  to  the  cave  and 
bring  back  with  him  his  favorite  spear.  The 
young  man  was  back  as  soon  as  strong  legs 
could  bring  him,  and  when  he  burst  into  the 
open  he  found  Mok  standing  a  long  spear's 
cast  from  the  greatest  of  the  trees  which  stood 
about  the  opening. 

" Throw  your  spear  at  the  tree,"  said  Mok. 
"Throw  strongly  as  you  can." 

Ab  hurled  the  spear  as  the  Zulu  of  later 
times  might  hurl  his  assagai,  as  strongly  and 
as  well,  but  the  distance  was  overmuch  for 
spear  throwing  with  good  effect,  and  the  flint 
point  pierced  the  wood  so  lightly  that  the 
weight  of  the  long  shaft  was  too  great  for  the 
holding  force  and  it  sank  slowly  to  the  ground 
and  pulled  away  the  head.  A  wild  beast 
struck  by  the  spear  at  such  distance  would 
have  been  sorely  pricked,  but  not  hurt  seri 
ously. 

"Now  take  the  plaything,"  said  Old  Mole 


AB'S  GREAT  DISCOVERY  135 

"and  throw  the  little  shaft  at  the  tree  with 
that." 

Ab  did  as  he  was  told,  and,  poor  marksman 
with  his  new  device,  of  course  missed  the  big 
tree  repeatedly,  broad  as  the  mark  was,  but 
when,  at  last,  the  bolt  struck  the  hard  trunk 
fairly  there  was  a  sound  which  told  of  the 
sharpness  of  the  blow  and  the  headless  shaft 
rebounded  back  for  yards.  Old  Mok  looked 
upon  it  all  delightedly. 

"It  may  be  there  is  something  to  your  play 
thing,"  he  said  to  the  young  man.  "  We  will 
make  a  better  one.  But  your  shaft  is  good 
for  nothing.  We  will  make  a  straighter  and 
stronger  one  and  upon  the  end  of  it  will  put  a 
little  spearhead,  and  then  we  can  tell  how 
deeply  it  will  go  into  the  wood.  We  will 
work." 

For  days  the  two  labored  earnestly  together, 
and  when  they  came  again  into  the  open  they 
bore  a  stronger  bow,  one  tapered  at  the  end  op 
posite  the  natural  tapering  of  the  branch,  so  that 
it  was  far  more  flexible  and  symmetrical  than 
the  one  they  had  tried  before.  They  had 
abundance  of  ash  and  yew  and  these  remained 
the  good  bow  wood  of  all  the  time  of  archery. 
And  the  shaft  was  straight  and  bore  a  minia- 


i  36  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

ture  spearhead  at  its  end.  The  thought  of 
notching  the  shaft  to  fit  the  string  came  natu 
rally  and  inevitably.  The  bow  had  its  first 
arrow. 

An  old  man  is  not  so  easily  affected  as  a 
young  one,  nor  so  hopeful,  but  when  the 
second  test  was  done  the  veteran  Mok  was  the 
wilder  and  more  delighted  of  the  two  who  shot 
at  the  tree  in  the  forest  glade.  He  saw  it  all! 
No  longer  could  the  spear  be  counted  as  the 
thing  with  which  to  do  most  grievous  hurt  at 
a  safe  distance  from  whatever  might  be  dan 
gerous.  With  the  better  bow  and  straighter 
shaft  the  marksmanship  improved;  even  for 
these  two  callow  archers  it  was  not  difficult  to 
hit  at  a  distance  of  a  double  spear's  cast  the 
bole  of  the  huge  tree,  two  yards  in  width  at 
least.  And  the  arrow  whistled  as  if  it  were  a 
living  thing,  a  hawk  seeking  its  prey,  and  the 
flint  head  was  buried  so  deeply  in  the  wood 
that  both  Mok  and  Ab  knew  that  they  had 
found  something  better  than  any  weapon  the 
cave  men  had  ever  known! 

There  followed  many  days  more  of  the 
eager  working  of  the  old  man  and  the  young 
one  in  the  cave,  and  there  was  much  testing 
of  the  new  device,  and  finally,  one  morning, 


AB'S  GREAT  DISCOVERY  137 

Ab  issued  forth  armed  with  his  ax  and  knife, 
but  without  his  spear.  He  bore,  instead,  a 
bow  which  was  the  best  and  strongest  the  two 
had  yet  learned  to  fashion,  and  a  sheaf  of 
arrows  slung  behind  his  back  in  a  quiver  made 
of  a  hollow  section  of  a  mammoth's  leg  bone 
which  had  long  been  kicked  about  the  cave. 
The  two  workers  had  drilled  holes  in  the  bone 
and  passed  thongs  through  and  made  a  wooden 
bottom  to  the  thing  and  now  it  had  found  its 
purpose.  The  bow  was  rude,  as  were  the 
arrows,  and  the  archer  was  not  yet  a  certain 
marksman,  though  he  had  practiced  diligently, 
but  the  bow  was  stiff,  at  least,  and  the  arrows 
had  keen  heads  of  flint  and  the  arms  of  the 
hunter  were  strong  as  was  the  bow. 

There  was  a  weary  and  fruitless  search  for 
game,  but  late  in  the  afternoon  the  youth 
came  upon  a  slight,  sheer  descent,  along  the 
foot  of  which  ran  a  shallow  but  broad  creek, 
beyond  which  was  a  little  grass-grown  valley, 
where  were  feeding  a  fine  herd  of  the  little 
deer.  They  were  feeding  in  the  direction  of 
the  creek  and  the  wind  blew  from  them  to  the 
hunter,  so  that  no  rumor  of  their  danger  was 
carried  to  them  on  the  breeze.  Ab  concealed 
himself  among  the  bushes  on  the  little  height 


I38  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

and  awaited  what  might  happen.  The  herd 
fed  slowly  toward  him. 

As  the  deer  neared  the  creek  they  grouped 
themselves  together  about  where  were  the 
greenest  and  richest  feeding-places,  and  when 
they  reached  the  very  border  of  the  stream 
they  were  gathered  in  a  bunch  of  half  a  hun 
dred,  close  together.  They  were  just  beyond 
a  spear's  cast  from  the  watcher,  but  this  was 
a  test,  not  of  the  spear,  but  of  the  bow,  and 
the  most  inexperienced  of  archers,  shooting 
from  where  Ab  was  hidden,  must  strike  some 
one  of  the  beasts  in  that  broad  herd.  Ab 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  drew  his  arrow  to  the 
head.  The  deer  gathered  for  a  second  in 
affright,  crowding  each  other  before  the  wild 
bursting  away  together,  and  then  the  bow 
string  twanged,  and  the  arrow  sang  hungrily, 
and  there  was  the  swift  thud  of  hundreds  of 
light  feet,  and  the  little  glade  was  almost 
silent.  It  was  not  quite  silent,  for,  flounder 
ing  in  its  death  struggles,  was  a  single  deer, 
through  which  had  passed  an  arrow  so  fiercely 
driven  that  its  flint  head  projected  from  the 
side  opposite  that  which  it  had  entered. 

Half  wild  with  triumph  was  the  youth  who 
bore  home  the  arrow-stricken  quarry,  and  not 


AB'S  GREAT  DISCOVERY  139 

much  more  elated  was  he  than  the  old  man, 
who  heard  the  story  of  the  hunt,  and  who 
recognized,  at  once  far  more  clearly  than 
the  younger  one,  the  quality  of  the  new 
weapon  which  had  been  discovered;  the  thing 
destined  to  become  the  greatest  implement 
both  of  chase  and  warfare  for  thousands  of 
years  to  come,  and  which  was  to  be  gradually 
improved,  even  by  these  two,  until  it  became 
more  to  them  than  they  could  yet  understand. 
But  the  lips  of  each  of  the  two  makers  of 
the  bow  were  sealed  for  the  time.  Ab  and 
Old  Mok  cherished  together  their  mighty 
secret . 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A   LESSON    IN    SWIMMING. 

AB  and  Oak,  ranging  far  in  their  hunting 
expeditions,  had,  long  since1,  formed  the  ac 
quaintance  of  the  Shell  People,  and  had  even 
partaken  of  their  hospitality,  though  there 
was  not  much  to  attract  a  guest  in  the  abodes 
of  the  creek-haunters.  Their  homes  were 
but  small  caves,  not  much  more  than  deep 
burrows,  dug  here  and  there  in  the  banks, 
above  high  water  mark,  and  protected  from 
wild  beasts  by  the  usual  heaped  rocks,  leaving 
only  a  narrow  passage.  This  insured  warmth 
and  comparative  safety,  but  the  homes  lacked 
the  spaciousness  of  the  caves  and  caverns  of 
the  hills,  and  the  food  of  fish  and  clams  and 
periwinkles,  with  flesh  and  fruit  but  seldom 
gained,  had  little  attraction  for  the  occasional 
cave  visitor.  Ab  and  Oak  would  sometimes 
traffic  with  the  Shell  People,  exchanging  some 
creature  of  the  land  for  a  product  of  the 
water,  but  they  made  brief  stay  in  a  locality 
where  the  food  and  odors  were  not  quite  to 
140 


A  LESSON  IN  SWIMMING  141 

their  accustomed  taste.  Yet  the  settlement  had 
a  slight  degree  of  interest  to  them.  They  had 
noted  the  buxom  quality  of  some  of  the  Shell 
maidens,  and  the  two  had  now  attained  an  age 
when  a  bright-eyed  young  person  of  the  other 
sex  was  agreeable  to  look  upon.  But  there 
had  been  no  love  passages.  Neither  of  the 
youths  was  yet  so  badly  stricken. 

There  came  an  autumn  morning  when  Ab 
and  Oak,  who  had  met  at  daybreak,  deter 
mined  to  visit  the  Shell  People  and  go  with 
them  upon  a  fishing  expedition.  The  Shell 
People  often  fished  from  boats,  and  the  boats 
were  excellent.  Each  consisted  of  four  or 
five  short  logs  of  the  most  buoyant  wood, 
bound  firmly  together  with  tough  withes,  but 
the  contrivance  was  more  than  a  simple  raft, 
because,  at  the  bow,  it  had  been  hewed  to  a 
point,  and  the  logs  had  been  so  chosen  that 
each  curved  upward  there.  It  had  been 
learned  that  the  waves  sometimes  encountered 
could  so  more  easily  be  cleft  or  overridden. 
None  of  these  boats  could  sink,  and  the  man 
of  the  time  was  quite  at  home  in  the  water. 
It  was  fun  for  the  young  men  whose  tale  is 
told  here  to  go  with  the  Shell  People  and 
assist  in  spearing  fish  or  drawing  them  from 


142  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

the  river's  depths  upon  rude  hooks,  and  the 
Shell  People  did  not  object,  but  were  rather 
proud  of  the  attendance  of  representatives  of 
the  hillside  aristocracy. 

The  morning  was  one  to  make  men  far 
older  than  these  two  most  confident  and  full 
of  life.  The  season  was  late,  though  the 
river's  waters  were  not  yet  cold.  The  mast 
had  already  begun  to  fall  and  the  nuts  lay 
thickly  among  the  leaves.  Every  morning, 
and  more  regularly  than  it  comes  now,  there 
was  a  spread  of  glistening  hoar  frost  upon  the 
lowlands  and  the  little  open  lands  in  the 
forest  and  upon  every  spot  not  tree-protected. 
At  such  times  there  appeared  to  the  eyes  of 
the  cave  people  the  splendor  of  nature  such 
as  we  now  can  hardly  comprehend.  It  came 
most  strikingly  in  spring  and  autumn,  and  was 
something  wonderful.  The  cave  men,  prob 
ably,  did  not  appreciate  it.  They  were  accus 
tomed  to  it,  for  it  was  part  of  the  record  of 
every  year.  Doubtless  there  came  a  greater 
vigor  to  them  in  the  keen  air  of  the  hoar  frost 
time,  doubtless  the  step  of  each  was  made 
more  springy  and  each  man's  valor  more  de 
nned  in  this  choice  atmosphere.  Temperate, 
with  a  wonderful  keenness  to  it,  was  the 


A  LESSON  IN  SWIMMING  143 

climate  of  the  cave  region  in  the  valley  of  the 
present  Thames.  Even  in  the  days  of  the 
cave  men,  the  Gulf  Stream,  swinging  from  the 
equator  in  the  great  warm  current  already 
formed,  laved  the  then  peninsula  as  it  now 
laves  the  British  Isles.  The  climate,  as  has 
been  told,  was  almost  as  equable  then  as 
now,  but  with  a  certain  crispness  which  was 
a  heritage  from  the  glacial  epoch.  It  was  a 
time  to  live  in,  and  the  two  were  merry  on 
their  journey  in  the  glittering  morning. 

The  young  men  idled  on  their  way  and 
wasted  an  hour  or  two  in  vain  attempts  to 
approach  a  feeding  deer  nearly  enough  for 
effective  spear-throwing.  They  were  late 
when,  after  swimming  the  creek,  they  reached 
the  Shell  village  and  there  learned  that  the 
party  had  already  gone.  They  decided  that 
they  might,  perhaps,  overtake  the  fishermen, 
and  so,  with  the  hunter's  easy  lope,  started 
briskly  down  the  river  bank.  They  were  not 
destined  to  fish  that  day. 

Three  or  four  miles  had  been  passed  and  a 
straight  stretch  of  the  river  had  been  attained, 
at  the  end  of  which,  a  mile  away,  could  be 
seen  the  boats  of  the  Shell  People,  to  be  lost 
to  sight  a  moment  later  as  they  swept  around 


i'44  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

a  bend.  But  there  was  something  else  in 
sight.  Perched  comfortably  upon  a  rock,  the 
sides  of  which  were  so  precipitous  that  they 
afforded  a  foothold  only  for  human  beings, 
was  a  young  woman  of  the  Shell  People  who 
had  before  attracted  Ab's  attention  and  some 
thing  of  his  admiration.  She  was  fishing  dili 
gently.  She  had  been  left  by  the  fishing 
party,  to  be  taken  up  on  their  return,  because, 
in  the  rush  of  waters  about  the  base  of  the 
rock,  was  a  haunt  of  a  small  fish  esteemed 
particularly,  and  because  the  girl  was  one  of 
the  little  tribe's  adepts  with  hook  and  line. 
She  raised  her  eyes  as  she  heard  the  patter  of 
footsteps  upon  the  shore,  but  did  not  exhibit 
any  alarm  when  she  saw  the  two  young  men. 
The  ordinary  young  woman  of  the  Shell  Peo 
ple  did  not  worry  when  away  from  land.  She 
could  swim  like  an  otter  and  dive  like  a  loon, 
and  of  wild  beasts  she  had  no  fear  when  she 
was  thus  safely  bestowed  away  from  the  death- 
harboring  forest.  The  maiden  on  the  rock 
was  most  serene. 

The  young  men  called  to  her,  but  she  made 
no  answer.  She  but  fished  away  demurely, 
from  time  to  time  hauling  up  a  flashing  finny 
thing,  which  she  calmly  bumped  on  the  rock 


A  LESSON  IN  SWIMMING  145 

and  then  tossed  upon  the  silvery  heap,  which 
had  already  assumed  fair  dimensions,  close 
behind  her.  As  Ab  looked  upon  the  young 
fisherwoman  his  interest  in  her  grew  rapidly 
and  he  was  silent,  though  Oak  called  out 
taunting  words  and  asked  her  if  she  could  not 
talk.  It  was  not  this  young  woman,  but  an 
other,  who  had  most  pleased  Oak  among  the 
girls  of  the  Shell  People. 

It  was  not  love  yet  with  Ab,  but  the  maiden 
interested  him.  He  held  no  defined  wish  to 
carry  her  away  to  a  new  home  with  him,  but 
there  arose  a  feeling  that  he  wanted  to  know 
her  better.  There  might, — he  didn't  know — 
be  as  good  wives  among  the  Shell  maidens  as 
among  the  well-running  girls  of  the  hills. 

"I'll  swim  to  the  rock!"  he  said  to  his  com 
panion,  and  Oak  laughed  loudly. 

Short  time  elapsed  between  decision  and 
action  in  those  days,  and  hardly  had  Ab 
spoken  when  he  flung  his  fur  covering  into  the 
hands  of  Oak,  and,  clad  only  in  the  clout 
about  his  hips,  dropped,  with  a  splash,  into 
the  water.  All  this  time  the  girl  had  been 
eyeing  every  motion  closely.  As  the  little 
waves  rose  laughingly  about  the  man,  she  de 
scended  lightly  from  her  perch  and  slid  into 


I46  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

the  stream  as  easily  and  silently  as  a  beaver 
might  have  done.  And  then  began  a  chase. 
The  girl,  finding  mid-current  swiftly,  was  a 
full  hundred  yards  ahead  as  Ab  came  fairly  in 
her  wake. 

A  splendid  swimmer  was  the  stalwart  young 
man  of  the  hills.  He  had  been  in  and  out  of 
water  almost  daily  since  early  childhood,  and, 
though  there  had  never  been  a  test,  was  con 
fident  that,  among  all  the  Shell  People,  there 
was  none  he  could  not  overtake,  despite 
what  he  had  heard  and  knew  of  their  wonder 
ful  cleverness  in  the  water.  Were  not  his 
arms  and  legs  longer  and  stronger  than  theirs 
and  his  chest  deeper  ?  He  felt  that  he  could 
outswim  easily  any  bold  fisherman  among 
them,  and  as  for  this  girl,  he  would  overtake 
her  very  quickly  and  draw  her  to  the  bank, 
and  then  there  would  be  an  interview  of  much 
enjoyment,  at  least  to  him.  His  strong  arm 
swept  the  water  back,  and  his  strong  legs, 
working  with  them,  drove  his  body  forward 
swiftly  toward  the  brown  object  not  very  far 
ahead.  Along  the  bank  ran  the  laughing  and 
shouting  Oak. 

Yard  by  yard,  Ab's  mighty  strokes  brought 
him  nearer  the  object  of  his  pursuit.  She 


A  LESSON  IN  SWIMMING  14? 

was  swimming  breast  forward,  as  was  he — for 
that  was  his  only  way — she  with  a  dog-like 
paddling  stroke,  and  often  she  turned  her 
head  to  look  backward  at  the  man.  She  did 
not,  even  yet,  appear  affrighted,  and  this  Ab 
wondered  at,  for  it  was  seldom  that  a  girl  of 
the  time,  thus  hunted,  was  not,  and  with 
reason,  terrified.  She,  possibly,  understood 
that  the  chase  did  not  involve  a  real  abduc 
tion,  for  she  and  her  pursuer  had  often  met, 
but  there  was,  at  least,  reason  enough  for 
avoiding  too  close  contact  on  this  day.  She 
swam  on  steadily,  and,  as  steadily,  Ab  gained 
upon  her. 

Down  the  long  stretch  of  tumbling  river, 
sweeping  eastward  between  hill  and  slope  and 
plain  and  woodland,  went  the  chase,  while 
the  panting  and  cheering  Oak,  strong-legged 
and  enduring  as  he  was,  barely  kept  pace  with 
the  two  heads  he  could  see  bobbing,  not  far 
apart  now,  in  the  tossing  waters.  Ab  had 
long  since  forgotten  Oak.  He  had  forgotten 
how  it  was  that  he  came  to  be  thus  swimming 
in  the  river.  His  thought  was  only  what  now 
made  up  an  overmastering  aim.  He  must 
reach  and  seize  upon  the  girl  before  him! 

Closer  and  closer,  though  she  as  much  as 


H  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

he  was  aided  by  the  swift  current,  the  young 
man  approached  the  girl.  The  hundred  yards 
had  lessened  into  tens  and  he  could  plainly 
see  now  the  wake  about  her  and  the  occasional 
up-flip  of  her  brown  heels  as  she  went  high  in 
her  stroke.  He  now  felt  easily  assured  of  her 
and  laughed  to  himself  as  he  swept  his  arms 
backward  in  a  fiercer  stroke  and  came  so  close 
that  he  could  discern  her  outline  through  the 
water.  It  was  but  a  matter  of  endurance,  he 
chuckled  to  himself.  How  could  a  woman 
outswim  a  man  like  him? 

It  was  just  at  the  time  when  this  thought 
came  that  Ab  saw  the  Shell  girl  lift  her  head 
and  turn  it  toward  him  and  laugh — laugh 
recklessly,  almost  in  his  very  face,  so  close 
together  were  they  now.  And  then  she  taught 
him  something!  There  was  a  dip  such  as  the 
otter  makes  when  he  seeks  the  depths  and 
there  was  no  longer  a  girl  in  sight!  But  this 
was  only  a  demonstration,  made  in  sheer  au 
dacity  and  blithesome  insolence,  for  the  brown 
head  soon  appeared  again  some  yards  ahead 
and  there  was  another  twist  of  it  and  another 
merry  laugh.  Then  the  neat  body  turned 
upon  its  side,  and  with  quick  outdriving  leg- 
strokes  and  the  overhand  and  underhand  pull- 


A  LESSON  IN  SWIMMING  14$ 

ing-forward  which  modern  swimmers  partly 
know,  the  girl  shot  ahead  through  the  tiny 
white-capped  waves  and  away  from  the  swim 
mer  so  close  behind  her,  as  to-day  the  cutter 
leaves  the  scow.  From  the  river  bank  came 
a  wild  yelp,  the  significance  of  which,  if  anal- 
ized,  might  have  included  astonishment  and 
great  delight  and  brotherly  derision.  Oak  was 
having  a  great  day  of  it!  He  was  the  sole 
witness  of  a  swimming-match  the  like  of  which 
was  rare,  and  he  was  getting  even  with  his 
friend  for  various  assumptions  of  superiority  in 
various  doings. 

Unexhausted  and  sturdy  and  stubborn,  Ab 
was  not  the  one  to  abandon  his  long  chase 
because  of  this  new  phase  of  things.  He  in 
haled  a  great  breath  and  made  the  water  foam 
with  his  swift  strokes,  but  as  well  might  a  wild 
goose  chase  a  swallow  on  the  wing  as  he  seek 
to  overtake  that  brown  streak  on  the  water. 
It  was  wonderful,  the  manner  in  which  that 
Shell  girl  swam!  She  was  like  the  birds  which 
swim  and  dive  and  dip,  and  know  of  nothing 
which  they  fear  if  only  they  are  in  the  water 
far  enough  away  from  where  there  is  the  need 
of  stalking  over  soil  and  stone.  It  was  not 
the  Shell  girl  was  other  than  at  home  on 


15°  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

land.  She  was  quite  at  home  there  and  rea 
sonably  fleet,  but  the  creek  and  river  had  so 
been  her  element  from  babyhood  that  the 
chase  of  the  hill  man  had  been,  from  the 
start,  a  sheer  absurdity. 

Ab  lifted  himself  in  the  waters  and  gazed 
upon  the  dark  spot  far  away,  and,  piqued  and 
maddened,  put  forth  all  the  swimming  strength 
there  was  left  in  his  brawny  body.  It  seemed 
for  a  brief  time  that  he  was  almost  equal  to 
the  task  of  gaining  upon  what  was  little  more 
than  a  dot  upon  the  surface  far  ahead.  But 
his  scant  prospect  of  success  was  only  momen 
tary.  The  trifling  spot  in  the  distant  drifts  of 
the  river  seemed  to  have  certain  ideas  of  its 
own.  The  speed  of  its  course  in  the  water  did 
not  abate  and,  in  a  moment,  it  was  carried 
around  the  bend,  and  lost  to  sight.  Ab  drifted 
to  the  turn  and  saw,  below,  a  girl  clambering 
into  safety  among  the  rafts  of  the  fishing  Shell 
People.  What  she  would  tell  them  he  did 
not  know.  That  was  not  a  matter  to  be  much 
considered. 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  be  done  and 
that  was  to  reach  the  land  and  return  to  a  life 
more  strictly  earthly  and  more  comfortable. 
There  is  nothing  like  water  for  overcoming  a 


A  LESSON  IN  SWIMMING  151 

young  man's  fancy  for  many  things.  Ab 
swam  now  with  a  somewhat  tired  and  languid 
stroke  to  the  shore,  where  Oak  awaited  him 
hilariously.  They  almost  came  to  blows  that 
afternoon,  and  blows  between  such  as  they 
might  have  easily  meant  sudden  death.  But 
they  were  not  rivals  yet  and  there  was  much 
to  talk  of  good-naturedly,  after  some  slight 
outflamings  of  passion  on  the  part  of  Ab,  and 
the  two  men  were  good  friends  again. 

The  sum  of  all  the  day  was  that  there  had 
been  much  exercise  and  fun,  for  Oak  at  least. 
Ab  had  not  caught  the  Shell  girl,  manfully  as 
he  had  striven.  Had  he  caught  her  and 
talked  with  her  upon  the  river  bank  it  might 
have  changed  the  current  of  his  life.  With  a 
man  so  young  and  sturdy  and  so  full  of  life 
the  laughing  fancy  of  a  moment  might  have 
changed  into  a  stronger  feeling  and  the  swim 
ming  girl  might  have  become  a  woman  of  the 
cave  people,  one  not  quite  so  equal  by  heritage 
to  the  task  of  breeding  good  climbing  and  run 
ning  and  fighting  and  progressive  beings  as 
some  girl  of  the  hills. 

It  matters  little  what  might  have  happened 
had  the  outcome  of  the  day's  effort  been  the 
reverse  of  what  it  was,  This  is  but  the  account 


152  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

of  the  race  and  what  the  sequel  was  when  Ab 
swam  so  far  and  furiously  and  well.  It  was 
his  first  flirtation.  It  was  yet  to  come  to  him 
that  he  should  be  really  in  love  in  the  cave 
man's  way* 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    MAMMOTH    AT   BAY. 

IT  was  late  autumn,  and  a  light  snow 
covered  the  ground,  when  one  day  a  cave 
man,  panting  for  breath,  came  running  down 
the  river  bank  and  paused  at  the  cave  of  One- 
Ear.  He  had  news,  great  news!  He  told 
his  story  hurriedly,  and  then  was  taken  into 
the  cave  and  given  meat,  while  Ab,  seizing 
his  weapons,  fled  downward  further  still  to 
ward  the  great  kitchen-midden  of  the  Shell 
People.  Just  as  ages  and  ages  later,  not  far 
from  the  same  region,  some  Scottish  runner 
carried  the  fiery  cross,  Ab  ran  exultingly  with 
the  news  it  was  his  to  bring.  There  must  be 
an  immediate  gathering,  not  only  of  the  cave 
men,  but  of  the  Shell  People  as  well,  and 
great  mutual  effort  for  great  gain.  The  mam 
moths  were  near  the  point  of  the  upland! 

The  runner  to  the  cave  of  One-Ear  was  a 
hunter  living  some  miles  to  the  north,  upon  a 
ledge  of  a  broad  forest-covered  plateau  ter 
minating  on  the  west  in  a  slope  which  ended 
153 


154  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

in  a  precipice  with  more  than  a  hundred  feet 
of  sheer  descent  to  the  valley  below.  On 
;are  occasions  a  herd  of  mammoths  invaded 
the  forest  and  worked  itself  toward  the  apex 
of  the  plateau,  and  then  word  went  all  over 
the  region,  for  it  was  an  event  in  the  history 
of  the  cave  men.  If  but  a  sufficient  force 
could  be  suddenly  assembled,  food  in  abun 
dance  for  all  was  almost  certainly  assured. 
The  prize  was  something  stupendous,  but 
prompt  action  was  required,  and  there  might 
be  tragedies.  As  bees  hum  and  gather  when 
their  hive  is  disturbed,  so  did  the  Shell  People 
when  Ab  burst  in  upon  them  and  delivered 
his  message.  There  was  rushing  about  and 
a  gathering  of  weapons  and  a  sorting  out  of 
men  who  should  go  upon  the  expedition.  But 
little  time  was  wasted.  Within  half  an  hour 
Ab  was  straining  back  again  up  the  river 
toward  his  own  abode,  while  behind  him 
trailed  half  a  hundred  of  the  Shell  People, 
armed  in  a  way  effective  enough,  but  which, 
in  the  estimation  of  the  cave  men,  was  pre 
posterous.  The  spears  of  the  Shell  People 
had  shafts  of  different  wood  and  heads  of 
different  material  from  those  of  the  cave  men, 
and  they  used  their  weapons  in  a  different 


THE  MAMMOTH  AT  BAY  155 

manner.  Accustomed  to  the  spearing  of  fish 
or  of  an  occasional  water  beast,  like  a  small 
hippopotamus,  which  still  existed  in  the  rivers 
of  the  peninsula,  they  always  threw  their 
spears — though  the  cave  people  were  experts 
with  this  as  well — and,  as  a  last  resource  in 
close  conflict,  they  used  no  stone  ax  or  mace, 
but  simply  ran  away,  to  throw  again  from  a 
distance,  or  to  fly  again,  as  conditions  made 
advisable.  But  they  were  brave  in  a  way — 
it  was  necessary  that  all  who  would  live  must 
have  a  certain  animal  bravery  in  those  days — 
and  their  numbers  made  them  essential  in  the 
rare  hunting  of  the  mammoth. 

When  the  company  reached  the  home  of 
Ab  they  found  already  assembled  there  a  score 
of  the  hill  men,  and,  as  the  word  had  gone 
out  in  every  direction,  it  was  found,  when  the 
rendezvous  was  reached,  which  was  the  cave 
of  Hilltop,  the  man  living  near  the  crest  of 
the  plateau,  and  the  one  who  had  made  the 
first  run  down  the  river,  that  there  were  more 
than  a  hundred,  counting  all  together,  to 
advance  against  the  herd  and,  if  possible, 
drive  the  great  beasts  toward  the  precipice. 
Among  this  hundred  there  was  none  more  de 
lighted  than  Ab  and  Oak,  for,  of  course,  these 


156  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

two  had  found  each  other  in  the  group,  and 
were  almost  like  a  brace  of  dogs  whining  for 
the  danger  and  the  hunt. 

Not  lightly  was  an  expedition  against  a 
herd  of  mammoths  to  be  begun,  even  by  a 
hundred  well-armed  people  of  the  time  of  the 
cave  men.  The  mammoth  was  a  monster 
beast,  with  perhaps  somewhat  less  of  saga- 
ciousness  than  the  modern  elephant,  but  with 
a  temper  which  was  demoniacal  when  aroused, 
and  with  a  strength  which  nothing  could  resist. 
He  could  be  slain  only  by  strategy.  Hence 
the  everlasting  watch  over  the  triangular 
plateau  and  the  gathering  of  the  cave  and 
river  people  to  catch  him  at  a  disadvantage. 
But,  even  with  a  drove  feeding  near  the  slope 
which  led  to  the  precipice,  the  cave  men 
would  have  been  helpless  without  the  intro 
duction  of  other  elements  than  their  weapons 
and  their  clamor.  The  mammoth  paid  no 
more  attention  to  the  cave  man  with  a  spear 
than  to  one  of  the  little  wild  horses  which 
fed  near  him  at  times.  The  pygmy  did  not 
alarm  him,  but  did  the  pygmy  ever  venture 
upon  an  attack,  then  it  was  likely  to  be  seized 
by  the  huge  trunk  and  flung  against  rock  or 
tree,  to  fall  crushed  and  mangled,  or  else  it 


THE  MAMMOTH  AT  BAY  157 

was  trodden  viciously  under  foot.  From  one 
thing,  though,  the  mammoth,  huge  as  he  was, 
would  flee  in  terror.  He  could  not  face  the 
element  of  fire,  and  this  the  cave  men  had 
learned  to  their  advantage.  They  could  drive 
the  mammoth  when  they  dare  not  venture  to 
attack  him,  and  herein  lay  their  advantage. 

Under  direction  of  the  veteran  hunter,  Hill 
top,  who  had  discovered  the  whereabouts  of 
the  drove,  preparations  were  made  for  the 
dangerous  advance,  and  the  first  thing  done 
was  the  breaking  off  of  dry  roots  of  the  over 
turned  pitch  pines,  and  gathering  of  knots  of 
the  same  trees,  with  limbs  attached,  to  serve 
as  handles.  These  roots  and  knots,  once 
lighted,  would  blaze  for  hours  and  made  the 
most  perfect  of  natural  torches.  Lengths  of 
bark  of  certain  other  trees  when  bound  together 
and  lighted  at  one  end  burned  almost  as  long 
and  brightly  as  the  roots  and  knots.  Each 
man  carried  an  unlighted  torch  of  one  kind  or 
another,  in  addition  to  his  weapons,  and  when 
this  provision  was  made  the  band  was  stretched 
out  in  a  long  line  and  a  silent  advance  began 
through  the  forest.  The  herd  of  mammoths 
was  composed  of  nineteen,  led  by  a  monster 
even  of  his  kind,  and  men  who  had  been 


I58  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

watching  them  all  night  and  during  the  fore 
noon  said  that  the  herd  was  feeding  very  near 
the  edge  of  the  wood,  where  it  ended  on  the 
slope  leading  to  the  precipice.  There  was  ice 
upon  the  slope  and  there  were  chances  of  a 
great  day's  hunting.  To  cut  off  the  mam 
moths,  that  is,  to  extend  a  line  across  the  up 
rising  peninsula  where  they  were  feeding, 
would  require  a  line  of  not  more  than  about 
five  hundred  yards  in  length,  and  as  there 
were  more  than  a  hundred  of  the  hunters,  the 
line  which  could  be  formed  would  be  most 
effective.  Lighted  punk,  which  preserved  fire 
and  gave  forth  no  odor  to  speak  of,  was  car 
ried  by  a  number  of  the  men,  and  the  advance 
began. 

It  had  been  an  exhilarating  scene  when  the 
cave  men  and  Shell  People  first  assembled 
and  when  the  work  of  gathering  material  for 
the  torches  was  in  progress.  So  far  was  the 
gathering  from  the  present  haunt  of  the  game 
that  caution  had  been  unnecessary,  and  there 
was  talk  and  laughter  and  all  the  open  enjoy 
ment  of  an  anticipated  conquest.  The  light 
snow,  barely  covering  the  ground,  flashed  in 
the  sun,  and  the  hunters,  practically  imper 
vious  to  the  slight  cold,  were  almost  prankish 


THE  MAMMOTH  AT  BAY  159 

in  their  demeanor.  Ab  and  Oak  especially 
were  buoyant,  This  was  the  first  hunt  upon 
the  rocky  peninsula  of  either  of  them,  and 
they  were  delighted  with  the  new  surround 
ings  and  eager  for  the  fray  to  come.  All 
about  was  talk  and  laughter,  which  became 
general  with  any  slight  physical  disaster  which 
came  to  one  among  the  hunters  in  the  climb 
ing  of  some  tree  for  a  promising  dead  branch 
or  finding  a  treacherous  hollow  when  assailing 
the  roots  of  some  upturned  pine.  It  was  a 
brisk  scene  and  a  lively  one,  that  which  oc 
curred  that  crisp  morning  in  late  autumn 
when  the  wild  men  gathered  to  hunt  the 
mammoth.  All  was  brightness  and  jollity  and 
noise. 

Very  different,  in  a  moment,  was  the  condi 
tion  when  the  hunters  entered  the  forest  and, 
extended  in  line,  began  their  advance  toward 
the  huge  objects  of  their  search.  The  cave 
man,  almost  a  wild  beast  himself  in  some  of 
his  ways,  had,  on  occasion,  a  footfall  as  light 
as  that  of  any  animal  of  the  time.  The  twig 
scarcely  crackled  and  the  leaf  scarcely  rustled 
beneath  his  tread,  and  when  the  long  line  en 
tered  the  wood  the  silence  of  death  fell  there, 
for  the  hunters  made  no  sound,  and  what 


160  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

slight  sound  the  woodland  had  before — the 
clatter  of  the  woodpeckers  and  jays — was 
hushed  by  their  advance.  So  through  the 
forest,  which  was  tolerably  close,  the  dark 
line  swept  quietly  forward  until  there  came 
from  somewhere  a  sudden  signal,  and  with  a 
still  more  cautious  advance  and  contraction  of 
the  line  as  the  peninsula  narrowed  the  quarry 
was  brought  in  sight  of  all. 

Close  to  the  edge  of  the  slope,  and  separated 
by  a  slight  open  space  from  the  forest  proper, 
was  an  evergreen  grove,  in  which  the  herd  of 
monster  beasts  was  feeding.  A  great  bull, 
with  long  up-curling  tusks,  loomed  above 
them  all,  and  was  farthest  away  in  the  grove. 
The  hunters,  hidden  in  the  forest,  lay  voice 
less  and  motionless  until  the  elders  decided 
upon  a  plan  of  attack,  and  then  the  word  was 
passed  along  that  each  man  must  fire  his 
torch. 

All  along  the  edge  of  the  wood  arose  the 
flashing  of  little  flames.  These  grew  in  mag 
nitude  until  a  line  of  fire  ran  clear  across  the 
wood,  and  the  mammoths  nearest  raised  their 
trunks  and  showed  signs  of  uneasiness.  Then 
came  a  signal,  a  wild  shout,  and  at  once,  with 
a  yell,  the  long  line  burst  into  the  open,  each 


THE  MAMMOTH  AT  BAY  l6l 

man  waving  his  flaming  torch  and  rushing  to 
ward  the  grove. 

There  was  a  chance — a  slight  one — that  the 
whole  herd  might  be  stampeded,  but  this  had 
rarely  happened  within  the  memory  of  the 
oldest  hunter.  The  mammoth,  though  subject 
to  panic,  did  not  lack  intelligence  and  when 
in  a  group  was  conscious  of  its  strength.  As 
that  yell  ascended,  the  startled  beasts  first 
rushed  deeper  into  the  grove  and  then,  as  the 
slope  beyond  was  revealed  to  them,  turned 
and  charged  blindly,  all  save  one,  the  great 
tusker,  who  was  feeding  at  the  grove's  outer 
verge.  They  came  on,  great  mountains  of 
flesh,  but  swerved  as  they  met  the  advancing 
line  of  fire  and  weaved  aimlessly  up  and  down 
for  a  moment  or  two.  Then  a  huge  bull,  stung 
by  a  spear  hurled  by  one  of  the  hunters  and 
frantic  with  fear,  plunged  forward  across  the 
line  and  the  others  followed  blindly.  Three 
men  were  crushed  to  death  in  their  passage 
and  all  the  mammoths  were  gone  save  the  big 
bull,  who  had  started  to  rejoin  his  herd  but  had 
not  reached  it  in  time.  He  was  now  raging 
up  and  down  in  the  grove,  bewildered  and 
trumpeting  angrily.  Immediately  the  hunters 
ii 


1 62  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

gathered  closer  together  and  made  their  line 
of  fire  continuous. 

The  mammoth  rushed  out  clear  of  the  trees 
and  stood  looming  up,  a  magnificent  creature 
of  unrivaled  size  and  majesty.  His  huge 
tusks  shone  out  whitely  against  the  mountain 
of  dark  shaggy  hair.  His  small  eyes  blazed 
viciously  as  he  raised  his  trunk  and  trumpeted 
out  what  seemed  either  a  hoarse  call  to  his 
herd  or  a  roar  of  agony  over  his  strait.  He 
seemed  for  a  moment  as  if  about  to  rush  upon 
the  dense  line  of  his  tormentors,  but  the  flam 
ing  faggots  dashed  almost  in  his  face  by  the 
reckless  and  excited  hunters  daunted  him, 
and,  as  a  spear  lodged  in  his  trunk,  he  turned 
with  almost  a  shriek  of  pain  and  dashed  into 
the  grove  again.  Close  at  his  heels  bounded 
the  hundred  men,  yelling  like  demons  and 
forgetting  all  danger  in  the  madness  of  the 
chase.  Right  through  the  grove  the  great 
beast  crashed  and  then  half  turned  as  he  came 
to  the  open  slope  beyond.  Running  beside 
him  was  a  daring  youth  trying  in  vain  to  pierce 
him  in  the  belly  with  his  flint-headed  spear, 
and,  as  the  mammoth  came  for  the  moment 
to  a  half  halt,  his  keen  eyes  noted  the  pygmy, 
bis  great  trunk  shot  downward  and  backward 


THE  MAMMOTH  AT  BAY  163 

picked  up  the  man  and  hurled  him  yards  away 
against  the  base  of  a  great  tree,  the  body  as 
it  struck  being  crushed  out  of  all  semblance 
to  man  and  dropping  to  the  earth  a  shapeless 
lump.  But  the  fire  behind  and  about  the 
desperate  mammoth  seemed  all  one  flame 
now,  countless  spears  thrown  with  all  the 
force  of  strong  arms  were  piercing  his  tough 
hide,  and  out  upon  the  slope  toward  the  preci 
pice  the  great  beast  plunged.  Upon  his  very 
flanks  was  the  fire  and  about  him  all  the  sting 
ing  danger  from  the  half-crazed  hunters.  He 
lunged  forward,  slipped  upon  the  smooth  gla 
cial  floor  beneath  him,  tried  to  turn  again  to 
meet  his  thronging  foes  and  face  the  ring  of 
flame,  and  then,  wavering,  floundering,  moving 
wonderfully  for  a  creature  of  his  vast  size,  but 
uncertain  as  to  foothold,  he  was  driven  to  the 
very  crest  of  the  ledge,  and,  scrambling  vainly, 
carrying  away  an  avalanche  of  ice,  snow  and 
shrubs,  went  crashing  to  his  death,  a  hundred 
feet  below! 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   FEAST   OF   THE    MAMMOTH. 

To  the  right  and  left  of  the  precipice  the 
fall  to  the  plain  below  was  more  gradual,  and 
with  exultant  yells,  the  cave  and  Shell  men 
rushed  in  either  direction,  those  venturing 
nearest  the  sheer  descent  going  down  like 
monkeys,  clinging  as  they  went  to  shrubs  and 
vines,  while  those  who  ran  to  where  the  drop 
was  a  degree  more  passable  fairly  tumbled 
downward  to  the  plain.  In  an  incredibly  short 
space  of  time  absolute  silence  prevailed  in  and 
about  the  grove  where  the  scene  had  lately 
been  so  fiercely  stirring.  In  the  valley  below 
there  was  wildest  clamor. 

It  was  a  great  occasion  for  the  human  beings 
of  the  region.  There  was  no  question  as  to 
the  value  of  the  prize  the  hunters  had  secured. 
Never  before  in  any  joint  hunting  expedition, 
within  the  memory  of  the  oldest  present,  had 
followed  more  satisfactory  result.  The  spoil 
was  well  worth  the  great  effort  that  had  been 
made;  in  the  estimation  of  the  time,  perhaps 
164 


THE  FEAST  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  165 

worth  the  death  of  the  hunters  who  had  been 
killed.  The  huge  beast  lay  dead,  close  to  the 
base  of  the  cliff.  One  great,  yellow-white, 
curved  tusk  had  been  snapped  off  and  showed 
itself  distinct  upon  the  grass  some  feet  away 
from  the  mountain  of  flesh  so  lately  animated. 
The  sight  was  one  worth  looking  upon  in  any 
age,  for,  in  point  of  grandeur  of  appearance, 
the  mammoth,  while  not  as  huge  as  some  of 
the  monsters  of  reptilian  times,  had  a  looming 
impressiveness  never  surpassed  by  any  beast 
on  the  earth's  surface.  Though  prone  and 
dead  he  was  impressive. 

But  the  cave  and  Shell  men  were  not  so 
much  impressed  as  they  were  delighted.  They 
had  come  into  possession  of  food  in  abundance 
and  there  would  be  a  feast  of  all  the  people  of 
the  region,  and,  after  that,  abundant  meat  in 
many  a  hut  and  cave  for  many  a  day.  The 
hunters  were  noisy  and  excited.  A  group 
pounced  upon  the  broken  tusk — for  a  mam 
moth  tusk,  or  a  piece  of  one,  was  a  prize  in  a 
cave  dwelling — and  there  was  prospect  of  a 
struggle,  but  grim  voices  checked  the  wrangle 
of  those  who  had  seized  upon  this  portion  of 
the  spoil  and  it  was  laid  aside,  to  be  appor- 


1 66  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

tioned  later.     The  feast  was  the  thing  to  be 
considered  now. 

Again  swift-footed  messengers  ran  along 
forest  paths  and  swam  streams  and  thridded 
wood  and  thicket,  this  time  to  assemble,  not 
the  hunters  alone,  but  with  them  all  members 
of  households  who  could  conveniently  and 
safely  come  to  the  gathering  of  the  morrow, 
when  the  feast  of  the  mammoth  would  be  on. 
The  messengers  dispatched,  the  great  carcass 
was  assailed,  and  keen  flint  knives,  wielded  by 
strong  and  skillful  hands,  were  soon  separating 
from  the  body  the  thick  skin,  which  was 
divided  as  seemed  best  to  the  leaders  of  the 
gathering,  Hilltop,  the  old  hunter,  for  his 
special  services,  getting  the  chief  award  in  the 
division.  Then  long  slices  of  the  meat  were 
cut  away,  fires  were  built,  the  hunters  ate  to 
repletion  and  afterward,  with  a  few  remaining 
awake  as  guards,  slept  the  sleep  of  the  healthy 
and  fully  fed.  Not  in  these  modern  days 
would  such  preliminary  consumption  of  food 
be  counted  wisest  preparation  for  a  feast  on 
the  morrow,  but  the  cave  and  Shell  men  were 
alike  independent  of  affections  of  the  stomach 
or  the  liver,  and  could,  for  days  in  sequence, 
gorge  themselves  most  buoyantly. 


THE  FEAST  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  167 

The  morning  came  crisp  and  clear,  and, 
with  the  morning,  came  from  all  directions 
swiftly  moving  men  and  women,  elated  and 
hungry  and  expectant.  The  first  families  and 
all  other  families  of  the  region  were  gathering 
for  the  greatest  social  function  of  the  time. 
The  men  of  various  households  had  already 
exerted  themselves  and  a  score  or  two  of  fires 
were  burning,  while  the  odor  of  broiling  meat 
was  fragrant  all  about.  Hunter  husbands 
met  their  broods,  and  there  was  banqueting, 
which  increased  as,  hour  after  hour,  new 
groups  came  in.  The  families  of  both  Ab  and 
Oak  were  among  those  early  in  the  valley, 
Beechleaf  and  Bark,  wide-eyed  and  curious, 
coming  upon  the  scene  as  a  sort  of  advance 
guard  and  proudly  greeting  Ab.  All  about 
was  heard  clucking  talk  and  laughter,  an  oc 
casional  shout,  and  ever  the  cracking  of  stone 
upon  the  more  fragile  thing,  as  the  monster's 
roasted  bones  were  broken  to  secure  the  mar 
row  in  them. 

There  was  hilarity  and  universal  enjoyment, 
though  the  assemblage,  almost  by  instinct, 
divided  itself  into  two  groups.  The  cave  men 
and  the  Shell  men,  while  at  this  time  friendly, 
were,  as  has  been  indicated,  unlike  in  many 


1 68  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

tastes  and  customs  and  to  an  extent  unlike  in 
appearance.  The  cave  man,  accustomed  to 
run  like  the  deer  along  the  forest  ways,  or  to 
avoid  sudden  danger  by  swift  upward  clamber 
ing  and  swinging  along  among  treetops,  was 
leaner  and  more  muscular  than  the  Shell 
man,  and  had  in  his  countenance  a  more 
daring  and  confident  expression.  The  Shell 
man  was  shorter  and,  though  brawny  of 
build,  less  active  of  movement.  He  had 
spent  more  hours  of  each  day  of  his  life  in  his 
rude  raft-boat,  or  in  walking  slowly  with  poised 
spear  along  creek  banks,  or,  with  bent  back, 
digging  for  the  great  luscious  shell-fish  which 
made  a  portion  of  his  food,  than  he  had  spent 
afoot  and  on  land,  with  the  smell  of  growing 
things  in  his  nostrils.  The  flavor  of  the  water 
was  his,  the  flavor  of  the  wood  the  cave  man's. 
So  it  was  that  at  the  feast  of  the  mammoth 
the  allies  naturally  and  good-naturedly  became 
somewhat  grouped,  each  person  according  to 
his  kind.  When  hunger  was  satisfied  and  the 
talking-time  came  on,  those  with  objects  and 
impulses  the  same  could  compare  notes  most 
interestedly.  Constantly  the  number  of  the 
feasters  increased,  and  by  mid-day  there  was  a 
company  of  magnitude.  Much  meat  was  re- 


THE  FEAST  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  169 

quired  to  feed  such  a  number,  but  there  were 
tons  of  meat  in  a  mammoth,  enough  to  defy 
the  immediate  assaults  of  a  much  greater 
assemblage  than  this  of  exceedingly  healthy 
people.  And  the  smoke  from  the  fires  as 
cended  and  these  rugged  ones  ate  and  were 
happy. 

But  there  came  a  time  in  the  afternoon 
when  even  such  feasters  as  were  assembled  on 
this  occasion  became,  in  a  measure,  content, 
when  this  one  and  that  one  began  to  look 
about,  and  when  what  might  be  called  the 
social  amenities  of  the  period  began.  Vet 
erans  flocked  together,  reminiscent  of  former 
days  when  another  mammoth  had  been  driven 
over  this  same  cliff;  the  young  grouped  about 
different  firesides,  and  there  was  talk  of  feats 
of  strength  and  daring  and  an  occasional 
friendly  grapple.  Slender,  sinewy  girls,  who 
had  girls'  ways  then  as  now,  ate  together  and 
looked  about  coquettishly  and  safely,  for  none 
had  come  without  their  natural  guardians. 
Rarely  in  the  history  of  the  cave  men  had 
there  been  a  gathering  more  generally  and 
thoroughly  festive,  one  where  good  eating  had 
made  more  good  fellowship.  Possibly — for 
ill  things  are  relative — there  has  never  oc- 


170  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

curred  an  affair  of  more  social  importance 
within  the  centuries  since.  Human  beings, 
dangerous  ones,  were  merry  and  trusting  to 
gether,  and  the  young  looked  at  each  other. 

Of  course  Ab  and  Oak  had  been  eating  in 
company.  They  had  risked  themselves  dan 
gerously  in  the  battle  on  the  cliff,  had  escaped 
injury  and  were  here  now,  young  men  of  im 
portance,  each  endowed  with  an  appetite  cor 
responding  with  the  physical  exertion  of  which 
he  was  capable  and  which  he  never  hesitated 
to  make.  The  amount  either  of  those  young 
men  had  eaten  was  sufficient  to  make  a  gour 
mand,  though  of  grossest  Roman  times,  fairly 
sick  with  envy,  and  they  were  still  eating, 
though,  it  must  be  confessed,  with  modified 
enthusiasm.  Each  held  in  his  hand  a  smok 
ing  lump  of  flesh  from  some  favored  portion 
of  the  mammoth  and  each  rent  away  an  occa 
sional  mouthful  with  much  content.  Sud 
denly  Ab  ceased  mastication  and  stood  silent, 
gazing  intently  at  a  not  unpleasing  object  a 
few  yards  distant. 

Two  girls  stood  together  near  a  fire  about 
which  were  grouped  perhaps  a  dozen  people. 
The  two  were  eating,  not  voraciously,  but 
with  an  apparent  degree  of  interest  in  what 


THE  FEAST  OF  THE  MAMMOTH          I?I 

they  were  doing,  for  they  had  not  been  among 
the  early  arrivals.  It  was  upon  these  two 
that  Ab's  wandering  glance  had  fallen  and 
had  been  held,  and  it  was  not  surprising  that 
he  had  become  so  interested.  Either  of  the 
couple  was  fitted  to  attract  attention,  though 
a  pair  more  utterly  unlike  it  would  be  difficult 
to  imagine.  One  was  slight  and  the  other 
the  very  reverse,  but  each  had  striking  char 
acteristics. 

They  stood  there,  the  two,  just  as  two  girls 
so  often  stand  to-day,  the  hand  of  one  laid 
half-caressingly  upon  the  hip  of  the  other. 
The  beaming,  broad  one  was  chattering  volu 
bly  and  the  slender  one  listening  carelessly. 
The  talking  of  the  heavier  girl  was  interrupted 
evenly  by  her  mumbling  at  a  juicy  strip  of 
meat.  Her  hunger,  it  was  clear,  had  not  yet 
been  satisfied,  and  it  was  as  clear,  too,  that  her 
companion  had  yet  an  appetite.  The  slender 
one  was,  seemingly,  not  much  interested  in  the 
conversation,  but  the  other  chattered  on.  It 
was  plain  that  she  was  a  most  contented 
being.  She  was  symmetrical  only  from  the 
point  of  view  of  admirers  of  the  heavily  built. 
She  had  very  broad  hips  and  muscular  arms 
and  was  somewhat  squat  of  structure.  It  is 


172  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

hesitatingly  to  be  admitted  of  this  young  lady 
that,  sturdy  and  prepossessing,  from  a  prac 
tical  point  of  view,  as  she  might  be  to  the 
average  food-winning  cave  man,  she  lacked  a 
certain  something  which  would,  to  the  obser 
vant,  place  her  at  once  in  good  society.  She 
was  an  exceedingly  hairy  young  woman.  She 
wore  the  usual  covering  of  skins,  but  she 
would  have  been  well-draped,  in  moderately 
temperate  weather,  had  the  covering  been  ab 
sent.  Either  for  fashion's  sake  or  comfort, 
not  much  weight  of  foreign  texture  in  addi 
tion  to  her  own  hirsute  and,  to  a  certain  ex 
tent,  graceful,  natural  garb,  was  needed.  She 
was  a  female  Esau  of  the  time,  just  a  great, 
good-hearted,  strong  and  honest  cave  girl,  of 
the  subordinate  and  obedient  class  which 
began  thousands  of  years  before  did  history, 
one  who  recognized  in  the  girl  who  stood  be 
side  her  a  stronger  and  dominating  spirit,  and 
who  had  been  received  as  a  trusted  friend  and 
willing  assistant.  It  is  so  to-day,  even  among 
the  creatures  which  are  said  to  have  no  souls, 
the  dogs  especially.  But  the  girl  had  strength 
and  a  certain  quick,  animal  intelligence.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  a  cave  man  living  not  far 
from  the  home  of  old  Hilltop,  and  her  name 


THE  FEAST  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  173 

was  Moonface.  Her  countenance  was  so 
broad  and  beaming  that  the  appellation  had 
suggested  itself  in  her  jolly  childhood. 

Very  different  from  Moonface  was  the  slen 
der  being  who,  having  eaten  a  strip  of  meat, 
was  now  seeking  diligently  with  a  splinter  for 
the  marrow  in  the  fragment  of  bone  her  father 
had  tossed  toward  her.  Her  father  was  Hill 
top,  the  veteran  of  the  immediate  region  and 
the  hero  of  the  day,  and  she  was  called  Light- 
foot,  a  name  she  had  gained  early,  for  not  in 
all  the  country  round  about  was  another  who 
could  pass  over  the  surface  of  the  earth  with 
greater  swiftness  than  could  she.  And  it  was 
upon  Lightfoot  that  Ab  was  looking. 

The  young  woman  would  have  been  fair  to 
look  upon,  or  at  least  fascinating,  to  the  most 
world-wearied  and  listless  man  of  the  present 
day.  She  stood  there,  easily  and  gracefully, 
her  arms  and  part  of  her  breast,  above,  and 
her  legs  from  about  the  knees,  below,  showing 
clearly  from  beneath  her  covering  of  skins. 
Her  deep  brown  hair,  knotted  back  with  a 
string  of  the  tough  inner  bark  of  some  tree, 
hung  upon  the  middle  of  her  flat,  in-setting 
back.  She  was  not  quite  like  any  of  the  other 
girls  about  her.  Her  eyes  were  larger  and 


174  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

softer  and  there  was  more  reflection  and  va 
riety  of  expression  in  them.  Her  limbs  were 
quite  as  long  as  those  of  any  of  her  compan 
ions  and  the  fingers  and  toes,  though  slenderer, 
were  quite  as  suggestive  of  quick  and  strong 
grasping  capabilities,  but  there  was,  with  all 
the  proof  of  springiness  and  litheness,  a  certain 
rounding  out.  The  strip  of  hair  upon  her  legs 
below  the  knees  was  slight  and  silken,  as  was 
also  that  upon  her  arms.  Yet,  undoubted 
leader  in  society  as  her  appearance  indicated, 
quite  aside  from  her  father's  standing,  there 
was  in  her  face,  with  all  its  loftiness  of  air,  a 
certain  blithesomeness  which  was  almost  at 
variance  with  conditions.  She  was  a  most 
lovable  young  woman — there  could  be  no 
question  about  that — and  Ab  had,  as  he 
looked  upon  her  for  the  first  time,  felt  the  fact 
from  head  to  heel.  He  thought  of  her  as  like 
the  leopard  tree-cat,  most  graceful  creature  of 
the  wood,  so  trim  was  she  and  full  of  elastic 
ity,  and  thought  of  her,  too,  as  he  looked  in 
her  intelligent  face,  as  higher  in  another  way. 
He  was  somewhat  awed,  but  he  was  courageous. 
He  had,  so  far  in  life,  but  sought  to  get  what 
he  wanted  whenever  it  was  in  sight.  Now  ho 
Was  nonplussed. 


THE  FEAST  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  175 

Presently  Lightfoot  raised  her  eyes  and  they 
met  those  of  Ab.  The  young  people  looked 
at  each  other  steadily  for  a  moment  and  then 
the  glance  of  the  girl  was  turned  away.  But, 
meanwhile,  the  man  had  recovered  himself. 
He  had  been  eating,  absent-mindedly,  a  well- 
cooked  portion  of  a  great  steak  of  the  mam 
moth's  choicest  part.  He  now  tore  it  in  twain 
and  watched  the  girl  intently.  She  raised  her 
eyes  again  and  he  tossed  her  a  half  of  the 
smoking  flesh.  She  saw  the  movement,  caught 
the  food  deftly  in  one  hand  as  it  reached  her, 
and  looked  at  Ab  and  laughed.  There  was 
no  mock  modesty.  She  began  eating  the 
choice  morsel  contentedly;  the  two  were,  in  a 
manner,  now  made  formally  acquainted. 

The  young  man  did  not,  on  the  instant, 
pursue  his  seeming  advantage,  the  result  of  an 
impulsive  bravery  requiring  a  greater  effort  on 
his  part  than  the  courage  he  had  shown  in 
conflict  with  many  a  beast  of  the  forest.  He 
did  not  talk  to  the  young  woman.  But  he 
thought  to  himself,  while  his  blood  bubbled  in 
his  veins,  that  he  would  find  her  again;  that 
he  would  find  her  in  the  wood!  She  did  not 
look  at  him  more,  for  her  people  were  cluster 
ing  about  her  and  this  was  a  great  occasion 


I76  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

Ab  was  recalled  to  himself  by  a  hoarse  excla 
mation.  Oak  was  looking  at  him  fiercely. 
There  was  no  other  sound,  but  the  young  man 
stood  gazing  fixedly  at  the  place  where  the 
girl  had  just  been  lost  amid  the  group  about 
her.  And  Ab  knew  instinctively,  as  men 
have  learned  to  know  so  well  in  all  the  years, 
from  the  feeling  which  comes  to  them  at  such 
a  time,  that  he  had  a  rival,  that  Oak  also  had 
seen  and  loved  this  slender  creature  of  the 
hillside. 

There  was  a  division  of  the  mammoth  flesh 
and  hide  and  tusks.  Ab  struggled  manfully 
for  a  portion  of  one  of  the  tusks,  which  he 
wanted  for  Old  Mok's  carving,  and  won  it  at 
last,  the  elders  deciding  that  he  and  Oak  had 
fought  well  enough  upon  the  cliff  to  entitle 
them  to  a  part  of  the  honor  of  the  spoil,  and 
Oak  opposing  nothing  done  by  Ab,  though  his 
looks  were  glowering.  Then,  as  the  sun  passed 
toward  the  west,  all  the  people  separated  to 
take  the  dangerous  paths  toward  their  homes. 
Ab  and  Oak  journeyed  away  together.  Ab 
was  jubilant,  though  doubtful,  while  the  face 
of  Oak  was  dark.  The  heart  of  neither  was 
light  within  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    COMRADES. 

DRIFTING  away  in  various  directions  toward 
their  homes  the  Cave  and  Shell  People  still 
kept  in  groups,  by  instinct.  Social  functions 
terminated  before  dark  and  guests  going  and 
coming  kept  together  for  mutual  protection  in 
those  days  of  the  cave  bear  and  other  beasts. 
But  on  the  day  of  the  Feast  of  the  Mammoth 
there  was  somewhat  less  than  the  usual  pre 
caution  shown.  There  were  vigorous  and 
well-armed  hunters  at  hand  by  scores,  and 
under  such  escort  women  and  children  might 
travel  after  dusk  with  a  degree  of  safety,  un 
less,  indeed,  the  great  cave  tiger,  Sabre-Tooth, 
chanced  to  be  abroad,  but  he  was  more  rarely 
to  be  met  than  others  of  the  wild  beasts  of  the 
time.  When  he  came  it  was  as  a  thunderbolt 
and  there  were  death  and  mourning  in  his 
trail.  The  march  through  the  forest  as  the 
shadows  deepened  was  most  watchful.  There 
was  a  keen  lookout  on  the  part  of  the  men, 
and  the  women  kept  their  children  well  in 
w  177 


178  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

hand.  From  time  to  time,  one  family  after 
another  detached  itself  from  the  main  body 
and  melted  into  the  forest  on  the  path  to  its 
own  cave  near  at  hand.  Thus  Hilltop  and  his 
family  left  the  group  in  which  were  Ab  and 
Oak,  and  glances  of  fire  followed  them  as  they 
went.  The  two  girls,  Lightfoot  and  Moon- 
face,  had  walked  together,  chattering  like 
crows.  They  had  strung  red  berries  upon 
grasses  and  had  hung  them  in  their  hair  and 
around  their  necks,  and  were  fine  creatures. 
Lightfoot,  as  was  her  wont,  laughed  freakishly 
at  whatever  pleased  her,  and  in  her  merry 
mood  had  an  able  second  in  her  sturdy  com 
panion.  There  were  moments,  though,  when 
even  the  irrepressible  Lightfoot  was  thought 
ful  and  so  quiet  that  the  girl  who  was  with  her 
wondered.  The  greater  girl  had  been  lightly 
touched  with  that  unnamable  force  which  has 
changed  men  and  women  throughout  all  the 
ages.  The  picture  of  Ab's  earnest  face  was 
in  her  mind  and  would  not  depart.  She  could 
not,  of  course,  define  her  own  mood,  nor  did 
she  attempt  it.  She  felt  within  herself  a  cer 
tain  quaking,  as  of  fear,  at  the  thought  of  him, 
and  yet,  so  she  told  herself  again  and  again, 
she  was  not  afraid.  All  the  time  she  could 


THE  COMRADES  179 

see  Ab's  face,  with  its  look  of  longing  and 
possession,  but  with  something  else  in  it,  when 
his  eyes  met  hers,  which  she  could  not  name 
nor  understand.  She  could  not  speak  of  him, 
but  Moonface  had  upon  her  no  such  stilling 
influence. 

"They  look  alike,"  she  said. 

Lightfoot  assented,  knowing  the  girl  meant 
Ab  and  Oak.  < '  But  Ab  is  taller  and  stronger, " 
Moonface  continued,  and  Lightfoot  assented 
as  indifferently,  for,  somehow,  of  the  two  she 
had  remembered  definitely  one  only.  She 
became  daring  in  her  reflections:  "What  if 
he  should  want  to  carry  me  to  his  cave?"  and 
then  she  tried  to  run  away  from  the  thought 
and  from  anything  and  everybody  else,  leaping 
forward,  outracing  and  leaving  all  the  com 
pany.  She  reached  her  father's  cave  far  ahead 
of  the  others  and  stood,  laughing,  at  the  en 
trance,  as  the  family  and  Moonface,  a  guest 
for  the  night,  came  trotting  up. 

And  Ab,  the  buoyant  and  strong,  was  not 
himself  as  he  journeyed  with  the  homeward- 
pressing  company.  His  mood  changed  and 
he  dropped  away  from  Oak  and  lagged  in  the 
rear  of  the  little  band  as  it  wound  its  way 
through  the  forest.  Slight  time  was  needed 


l8o  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

for  others  to  recognize  his  mood,  and  he  was 
strong  of  arm  and  quick  of  temper,  as  all  knew 
well,  and,  so,  he  was  soon  left  to  stalk  behind 
in  independent  sulkiness.  He  felt  a  weight  in 
his  breast;  a  fiery  spot  burned  there.  He  was 
fierce  with  Oak  because  Oak  had  looked  at 
Lightfoot  with  a  warm  light  in  his  eyes.  He! 
when  he  should  have  known  that  Ab  was 
looking  at  her!  This  made  rage  in  his  heart; 
and  sadness  came,  too,  because  he  was  per 
plexed  over  the  girl.  "How  can  I  get  her?" 
he  mumbled  to  himself,  as  he  stalked  along. 

Meanwhile,  at  the  van  of  the  company  there 
was  noise  and  frolic.  Assembled  in  force,  they 
were  for  the  hour  free  from  dread  of  the 
haunting  terror  of  wild  beasts,  and,  satisfied 
with  eating,  the  Cave  and  Shell  People  were 
in  one  of  the  merriest  moods  of  their  lives, 
collectively  speaking.  The  young  men  were 
especially  jubilant  and  exuberant  of  demeanor. 
Their  sport  was  rough  and  dangerous.  There 
were  scuffling  and  wrestling  and  the  more 
reckless  threw  their  stone  axes,  sometimes  at 
each  other,  always,  it  is  true,  with  warning 
cries,  but  with  such  wild,  unconscious  strength 
put  in  the  throwing  that  the  finding  of  a  living 
target  might  mean  death.  Ab,  engrossed  in 


THE  COMRADES  1 8 1 

thoughts  of  something  far  apart  from  the  rude 
sport  about  him,  became  nervously  impatient. 
Like  the  girl,  he  wanted  to  escape  from  his 
thoughts,  and  bounding  ahead  to  mingle  with 
the  darting  and  swinging  group  in  front,  he 
was  soon  the  swift  and  stalwart  leader  in  their 
foolishly  risky  sport,  the  center  of  the  whole 
commotion.  One  muscled  man  would  hurl 
his  stone  hatchet  or  strong  flint-headed  spear 
at  a  green  tree  and  another  would  imitate  him 
until  a  space  in  advance  was  covered  and  the 
word  given  for  a  rush,  when  all  would  race  for 
the  target,  each  striving  to  reach  it  first  and 
detach  his  own  weapon  before  others  came. 
It  was  a  merry  but  too  careless  contest,  with 
a  chance  of  some  serious  happening.  There 
followed  a  series  of  these  mad  games  and  the 
oldsters  smiled  as  they  heard  the  sound  of 
vigorous  contest  and  themselves  raced  as  they 
could,  to  keep  in  close  company  with  the 
stronger  force. 

Ab  had  shown  his  speed  in  all  his  playing. 
Now  he  ran  to  the  front  and  plucked  out  his 
spear,  a  winner,  then  doubled  and  ran  back 
beside  the  pathway  to  mingle  with  the  central 
body  of  travelers,  having  in  mind  only  to  keep 
in  the  heart  and  forefront  of  as  many  contests 


182  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

as  possible.  There  was  more  shouting  and 
another  rush  from  the  main  body  and,  bound 
ing  aside  from  all,  he  ran  to  get  the  chance 
of  again  hurling  his  spear  as  well.  A  great 
oak  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  pathway  and 
toward  it  already  a  spear  or  two  had  been 
sent,  all  aimed,  as  the  first  thrower  had  indi 
cated,  at  a  white  fungus  growth  which  pro 
truded  from  the  tree.  It  was  a  matter  of 
accuracy  this  time.  Ab  leaped  ahead  some 
yards  in  advance  of  all  and  hurled  his  spear. 
He  saw  the  white  chips  fly  from  the  side  of 
the  fungus  target,  saw  the  quivering  of  the 
spear  shaft  with  the  head  deep  sunken  in  the 
wood,  and  then  felt  a  sudden  shock  and  pain 
in  one  of  his  legs.  He  fell  sideways  off  the 
path  and  beneath  the  brushwood,  as  the  wild 
band,  young  and  old,  swept  by.  He  was 
crippled  and  could  not  walk.  He  called  aloud, 
but  none  heard  him  amid  the  shouting  of 
that  careless  race.  He  tried  to  struggle  to  his 
feet,  but  one  leg  failed  him  and  he  fell  back, 
lying  prone,  just  aside  from  the  forest  path, 
nearly  weaponless  and  the  easy  prey  of  the 
wild  beasts.  What  had  hurt  him  so  grievously 
was  a  spear  thrown  wildly  from  behind  him. 
It  had,  hurled  with  great  strength,  struck  a 


THE  COMRADES  183 

smooth  tree  trunk  and  glanced  aside,  the  point 
of  the  spear  striking  the  young  man  fairly  in 
the  calf  of  the  leg,  entering  somewhat  the 
bone  itself,  and  shocking,  for  the  moment, 
every  nerve.  The  flint  sides  had  cut  a  vein 
or  two  and  these  were  bleeding,  but  that  was 
nothing.  The  real  danger  lay  in  his  helpless 
ness.  Ab  was  alone,  and  would  afford  good 
eating  for  those  of  the  forest  who,  before  long, 
would  be  seeking  him.  The  scent  of  the  wild 
beast  was  a  wonderful  thing.  The  man  tried 
to  rise,  then  lay  back  sullenly.  Far  in  the 
distance,  and  growing  fainter  and  fainter,  he 
could  hear  the  shouts  of  the  laughing  spear- 
throwers. 

The  strong  young  man,  thus  left  alone  to 
death  almost  inevitable,  did  not  altogether 
despair.  He  had  still  with  him  his  good  stone 
ax  and  his  long  and  keen  stone  knife.  He 
would,  at  least,  hurt  something  sorely  before 
he  was  eaten,  he  thought  grimly  to  himself. 
And  then  he  pressed  leaves  together  on  the 
cut  upon  his  leg,  and  laid  himself  back  upon 
the  leaves  and  waited. 

He  did  not  have  to  wait  long.  He  had  not 
thought  to  do  so.  How  full  the  woods  were 
£>f  blood-scenting  an4  man-eating  things 


184  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

knew  better  than  he.  His  ear,  keen  and 
trained,  caught  the  patter  of  a  distant  ap 
proach.  « '  Wolves, "  he  said  to  himself  at  first, 
and  then  "Hyenas,"  for  the  step  was  puz 
zling.  He  was  perplexed.  The  step  was  reg 
ular,  and  it  was  not  in  the  forest  on  either 
side,  but  was  coming  up  the  path.  A  terror 
came  upon  him  and  he  had  crawled  deeper  into 
the  shades,  when  he  noted  that  the  steps  first 
ceased,  and  then  that  they  wandered  search- 
ingly  and  uncertainly.  Then,  loud  and  strong, 
rang  out  a  voice,  calling  his  name,  and  it  was 
the  voice  of  Oak!  He  could  not  answer  for  a 
moment,  and  then  he  cried  out  gladly. 

Oak  had,  in  the  forward-rushing  group,  seen 
Ab's  hurt  and  fall,  but  had  thought  it  a  trifling 
matter,  since  no  outcry  came  from  those  behind, 
and  so  had  kept  his  course  away  and  ahead 
with  the  rest.  But  finally  he  had  noted  the 
absence  of  Ab  and  had  questioned,  and  then — 
first  telling  some  of  his  immediate  companions 
that  they  were  to  lag  and  wait  for  him — had 
started  back  upon  a  run  to  reach  the  place 
where  he  had  last  seen  his  friend.  It  was 
easy  now  to  arrange  wet  leaves  about  Ab's 
crippling,  but  little  more  than  temporary, 
wound.  The  two,  one  leaning  upon  the  othef 


THE  COMRADES  185 

and  hobbling  painfully,  and  each  with  weap 
ons  in  hand,  contrived,  at  last,  to  reach  Oak's 
lingering  and  grumbling  contingent.  Ab  was 
helped  along  by  two  instead  of  one  then, 
and  the  rest  was  easy.  When  the  pathway 
leading  to  home  was  reached,  Oak  accom 
panied  his  friend,  and  the  two  passed  the 
night  together. 

Ab,  once  on  his  own  bed,  with  Oak  couched 
beside  him,  was  surprised  to  find,  not  merely 
that  his  physical  pain  was  going,  but  that  the 
greater  one  was  gone.  The  weight  and  burning 
had  left  his  breast  and  he  was  no  longer  angry 
at  Oak.  He  thought  blindly  but  directly  to 
ward  conclusions.  He  had  almost  wanted  to 
kill  Oak,  all  because  each  saw  the  charm  of 
and  wanted  the  possession  of  a  slender,  beau 
tiful  creature  of  their  kind.  Then  something 
dangerous  had  happened  to  him,  and  this 
same  Oak,  his  friend,  the  man  he  had  wished 
to  kill,  had  come  back  and  saved  his  life.  The 
sense  which  we  call  gratitude,  and  which  is 
not  unmingled  with  what  we  call  honor,  came 
to  this  young  cave  man  then.  He  thought  of 
many  things,  worried  and  wakeful  as  he  was, 
and  perhaps  made  more  acute  of  perception 
by  the  slight,  exciting  fever  of  his  wound. 


1 86  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

He  thought  of  how  the  two,  he  and  Oak,  had 
planned  and  risked  together,  of  their  boyish 
follies  and  failures  and  successes,  and  of  how, 
in  later  years,  Oak  had  often  helped  him,  of 
how  he  had  saved  Oak's  life  once  in  the  river 
swamp,  where  quicksands  were,  of  how  Oak 
had  now  offset  even  that  debt  by  carrying  him 
away  from  certain  ending  amid  wild  beasts. 
No  one — and  of  the  cave  men  he  knew  many — 
no  one  in  all  the  careless,  merry  party  had 
missed  him  save  Oak.  He  doubtless  could 
not  have  told  himself  why  it  was,  but  he  was 
glad  that  he  could  repay  it  all  and  have  the 
balance  still  upon  his  side.  He  was  glad  that 
he  had  the  secret  of  the  bow  and  arrow  to 
reveal.  That  should  be  Oak's!  So  it  came 
that,  late  that  night,  when  the  fire  in  the  cave 
had  burned  low  and  when  one  could  not 
wisely  speak  above  a  whisper,  Ab  told  Oak 
the  story  of  the  new  weapon,  of  how  it  had 
been  discovered,  of  how  it  was  to  be  used  and 
of  all  it  was  for  hunters  and  fighters.  Fur 
thermore,  he  brought  his  best  bow  and  best 
arrows  forth,  and  told  Oak  they  were  his  and 
that  they  would  practice  together  in  the  morn 
ing.  His  astonished  and  delighted  companion 
had  little  to  say  over  the  revelation.  He  was 


THE  COMRADES  i»7 

eager  for  the  morning,  but  he  straightened  out 
his  limbs  upon  the  leafy  mattress  and  slept 
well.  So,  somewhat  later,  did  the  half-fever 
ish  Ab. 

Morning  came  and  the  cave  people  were 
astir.  There  was  brief  though  hearty  feeding 
and  then  Ab  and  Oak  and  Old  Mok,  to  whom 
Ab  had  said  much  aside,  went  away  from  the 
cave  and  into  the  forest.  There  Oak  was 
taught  the  potency  of  the  new  weapon,  its 
deadly  quality  and  the  safety  of  distance  it 
afforded  its  user.  It  was  a  great  morning 
for  all  three,  not  excepting  the  stern  and 
critical  old  teacher,  when  they  thus  met  to 
gether  in  the  wood  and  the  secret  of  what 
two  had  found  was  so  transmitted  to  another. 
As  for  Oak,  he  was  fairly  aflame  with  excite 
ment.  He  was  far  from  slow  of  mind  and  he 
recognized  in  a  moment  the  enormous  advan 
tage  of  the  new  way  of  killing  either  the  things 
they  ate,  or  the  things  they  dreaded  most. 
He  could  scarcely  restrain  his  eagerness  to  ex 
periment  for  himself.  Before  noon  had  come 
he  was  gone,  carrying  away  the  bow  and  the 
good  arrows.  As  he  disappeared  in  the  wood 
Ab  said  nothing,  but  to  himself  he  thought; 


1 88  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

'  *  He  may  have  all  the  bows  and  arrows  he 
can  make,  but  I  will  have  Lightfoot  my 
self!" 

Ab  and  Mok  started  for  the  cave  again,  Ab, 
bow  in  hand  and  with  ready  arrow.  There 
was  a  patter  of  feet  upon  leaves  in  the  wood 
beside  them  and  then  the  arrow  was  fitted  to 
the  string,  while  Old  Mok,  strong-armed  if 
weak-legged,  raised  aloft  his  spear.  The  two 
were  seeking  no  conflict  with  wild  beasts  to 
day  and  were  but  defensive  and  alert.  They 
were  puzzled  by  the  sound  their  quick  ears 
caught.  ' '  Patter,  patter, "  ever  beside  them, 
but  deep  in  the  forest  shade,  came  the  sound 
of  menacing  followers  of  some  sort. 

There  was  tension  of  nerves.  Old  Mok. 
sturdy  and  unconsciously  fatalistic,  was  more 
self-contained  than  the  youth  at  his  side,  bow- 
armed  and  with  flint  ax  and  knife  ready  for 
instant  use.  At  last  an  open  space  was 
reached  across  which  ran  the  well-worn  path. 
Now  the  danger  must  reveal  itself.  The  two 
men  emerged  into  the  glade,  and,  a  moment 
later,  there  bounded  into  it  gamboling  and 
full  of  welcome,  the  wolf  cubs,  which  had 
played  about  the  cave  so  long,  who  were  now 
detached  from  their  own  kind  and  preferred 


THE  COMRADES 


the  companionship  of  man.  There  was  laugh 
ter  then,  and  a  more  careless  demeanor  with 
the  weapon  borne. 


CHAPTER  XVIIi. 

LOVE   AND   DEATH. 

DIFFERENT  from  his  former  self  became  this 
young  forester,  Ab.  He  was  thinking  of  some 
thing  other  than  wild  beasts  and  their  pursuit. 
Instinctively,  the  course  of  his  hunting  expe 
ditions  tended  toward  the  northwest  and  soon 
the  impulse  changed  to  a  design.  He  must 
look  upon  Lightfoot  again!  Henceforth  he 
haunted  the  hill  region,  and  never  keener  for 
quarry  or  more  alert  for  the  approach  of  some 
dangerous  animal  was  the  eye  of  this  woods 
man  than  it  was  for  the  appearance  somewhere 
of  a  slender  figure  of  a  cave  girl.  Neither  game 
nor  things  to  dread  were  numerous  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  home  of  Hilltop,  for  there  one 
of  the  hardiest  and  wisest  among  hunters  had 
occupied  his  cave  for  many  years,  and  wild 
beasts  learn  things.  So  it  chanced  that  Light- 
foot  could  wander  farther  afield  than  could 
most  girls  of  the  time.  Ab  knew  all  this  well, 
for  the  quality  of  expert  and  venturesome  old 
Hilltop  was  familiar  to  all  the  cave  men 
190 


LOVE  AND  DEATH  1 9 1 

throughout  a  wide  stretch  of  country.  So 
Ab,  somewhat  shamefaced  to  his  own  con 
sciousness,  hunted  in  a  region  not  the  best  for 
spoil,  and  looked  for  a  girl  who  might  appear 
on  some  forest  path,  moderately  safe  from  the 
rush  of  any  of  the  hungry  man-eaters  of  the 
wood. 

But  not  all  the  time  of  this  wild  lover  was 
wasted  in  haunting  the  possible  idling-places 
of  the  girl  he  wanted  so.  With  love  there  had 
come  to  him  such  sense  and  thoughtfulness  as 
has  come  with  earnest  love  to  millions  since. 
What  could  he  do  with  Lightfoot  should  he 
gain  her?  He  was  but  a  big,  young  fighting 
man  and  hunter,  still  sleeping,  almost  nightly, 
on  one  of  the  leaf  beds  in  his  father's  cave. 
With  a  wife  of  his  own  he  must  have  a  cave 
of  his  own.  Compared  with  his  first  impulses 
toward  the  girl,  this  was  a  new  train  of  thought, 
and,  as  we  recognize  it  to-day,  a  nobler  one. 
He  wanted  to  care  for  his  own.  He  wanted 
a  cave  fit  for  the  reception  of  such  a  woman 
as  this,  to  him,  the  sweetest  and  proudest  of 
all  beings,  Lightfoot,  daughter  of  old  Hilltop, 
of  the  wooded  highlands. 

Far  up  the  river,   far  beyond  the  home  of 
Oak's  father  and  beyond  the  shining  marsh- 


I92  THE  STORY  OF  Afc 

lands  and  the  purple  heather  reaches  which 
made  the  foothills  pleasant,  extended  to  the 
river's  bank  a  promontory,  bold  and  picturesque 
and  clad  heavily  with  the  best  of  trees.  It 
was  a  great  stretch  of  land,  where,  in  some  of 
nature's  grim  work,  the  earth  had  been  up 
heaved  and  there  had  been  raised  good  soil  for 
giant  forests,  and  at  the  same  time  been  made 
broad  caverns  to  become  future  habitations  of 
the  creature  known  as  man.  But  the  trees 
bore  nuts  and  fruits,  and  such  creatures  as 
found  food  in  nuts  and  fruits,  and,  later,  such 
as  loved  rich  herbage,  came  to  the  forest  in 
great  numbers,  and  then  followed  such  as  fed 
upon  these  again,  all  the  flesh  eaters,  to  whom 
man  was,  as  any  other  living  thing,  to  be  seized 
upon  and  devoured.  The  promontory,  so  rich 
in  game  and  nuts  and  fruits,  was,  at  the  same 
time,  the  most  dangerous  in  all  the  region  for 
human  habitation.  There  were  deep,  dry 
caves  within  its  limits,  but  in  none  of  them  had 
a  cave  man  yet  ventured  to  make  his  home.  It 
was  toward  this  promontory  that  the  young 
man  in  love  turned  his  eyes.  Because  others 
had  feared  to  make  a  home  in  this  lone,  high 
region  should  he  also  fear?  There  was  food 
there  in  plenty  and  if  there  were  chance  of 


LOVE  AND  DEATH  193 

fighting  in  plenty,  so  much  the  better!  Was 
he  not  strong  and  fleet;  had  he  not  the  best  of 
spears  and  axes?  Above  all,  had  he  not  the 
new  weapon  which  made  man  far  above  the 
beasts?  Here  was  the  place  for  a  home  which 
should  be  the  best  in  all  this  region  of  the  cave 
men.  Here  game  and  food  of  all  kinds  would  be 
most  abundant.  The  situation  would  demand 
a  brave  man  and  a  woman  scarcely  less  cour 
ageous,  but  would  not  he  and  the  girl  he  was 
determined  to  bring  there  meet  all  occasion? 
His  mind  was  fixed. 

Ab  found  a  cave,  one  clean  and  dry  and 
opening  out  upon  a  slight  treeless  area,  and 
this  he,  lover-like,  improved  for  the  woman 
he  had  resolved  to  bring  there,  arranging  care 
fully  the  interior  of  which  must  be  a  home. 
He  had  fancies  such  as  lovers  have  exhibited 
from  since  the  time  when  the  plesiosaurus 
swashed  away  in  the  strand  of  a  warm  sea  a 
hollow  nursery  for  the  birth  and  first  tending 
of  the  young  of  his  odd  kind,  up  to  the  later 
time  when  men  have  squandered  fortunes  on 
the  sleeping  rooms  of  women  they  have  loved. 
He  toiled  for  many  days.  With  his  ax  he 
chipped  away  the  cavern's  sharp  protuberances 
at  each  side,  and  with  the  stone  chips  from 


194  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

the  walls  and  with  what  he  brought  from  out 
side,  he  made  the  floor  white  and  clean  and 
nearly  level.  He  built  a  fireplace  and  chipped 
into  a  huge  stone,  which,  fortunately,  lay  inside 
the  cave,  a  hollow  for  holding  drinking  water, 
or  for  the  boiling  of  meat.  He  built  up  a 
passage-way  at  the  entrance,  allowing  some 
thing  but  not  too  much  more  than  his  own 
width,  as  the  gauge  for  measurement  of  its 
breadth.  He  brought  into  the  cave  a  deep 
carpet  of  leaves  and  made  a  wide  bed  in  one 
corner  and  this  he  covered  with  furred  skins, 
for  many  skins  Ab  owned  in  his  own  right. 
Then,  with  a  thick  fragment  of  tough  branch 
as  a  lever,  he  rolled  a  big  stone  near  the  cave's 
entrance  and  left  it  ready  to  be  occupied  as  a 
home.  The  woman  was  still  lacking. 

There  came  a  day  when  Ab,  impatient  after 
his  searching  and  waiting,  but  yet  resolute, 
had  killed  a  capercailzie — the  great  grouse- 
like  bird  of  the  time,  the  descendants  of  which 
live  to-day  in  northern  forests — and  had  built 
a  fire  and  feasted,  and  then,  instinctively 
careful,  had  climbed  to  the  first  broad,  low 
branch  of  an  enormous  tree  and  there  adjusted 
himself  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  one  who  has 
eaten  heartily.  He  lay  with  the  big  branch 


LOVE  AND  DEATH  195 

for  a  bed,  supported  on  either  side  by  green, 
upspringing  twigs,  and  slept  well  for  an  hour 
or  two  and  then  awoke,  lazy  and  listless,  but 
with  much  good  to  him  from  the  repast  and 
rest.  It  was  not  yet  very  late  in  the  after 
noon  and  the  sun  still  shone  kindly  upon  him, 
as  upon  a  whole  world  of  rejoicing  things. 
Something  like  a  reflection  of  the  life  of  the 
morning  was  beginning  to  manifest  itself,  as  is 
ever  the  way  where  forests  and  wild  things 
are.  The  wonderful  noise  of  wood  life  was 
^enewed.  As  the  young  man  awakened,  he 
Telt  in  every  pulse  the  thrilling  powers  of 
existence.  Everything  was  fair  to  look  upon. 
His  ears  took  in  the  sound  of  the  voices  of 
birds,  already  beginning  vesper  songs,  though 
the  afternoon  was  yet  so  early  as  scarcely  to 
hint  of  evening,  and  the  scent  from  a  thousand 
plants  and  flowers,  permeating  and  intoxicat 
ing,  reached  his  senses  as  he  lounged  sprawl- 
ingly  upon  his  safe  bed  aloft. 

It  was  attractive,  the  scene  which  Ab  looked 
upon.  The  forest  was  in  all  the  glory  of  sum 
mer  and  nesting  and  breeding  things  were 
happy.  There  was  the  fullness  of  the  being 
of  trees  and  plants  and  of  all  birds  and  beasts. 
There  was  a  soft  commingling  of  sounds  which 


19^  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

told  of  the  life  about,  the  effect  of  which  was, 
somehow,  almost  drowsy  in  the  blending  of 
all  together.  The  great  ferns  waved  gently 
along  the  hollows  as  the  slight  breeze  touched 
them.  They  were  queer,  those  ferns.  They 
were  not  quite  so  slender  and  tapering  and 
gothic  as  the  ferns  we  see  to-day.  They  were 
a  trifle  more  lush  and  ragged,  and  their  tips 
were  sometimes  almost  rounded.  But  Ab 
noted  little  of  fern  or  bird.  It  was  only  the 
general  sensuousness  that  was  upon  him. 
The  smell  of  the  pines  was  a  partial  tonic  to 
the  healthy,  half-awakened  man,  and,  though 
he  lay  back  upon  the  rugged  wooden  bed  and 
half  dozed  again,  nature  had  aroused  him  a 
trifle  beyond  the  point  of  relapse  into  abso 
lute,  unknowing  slumber.  There  was  coming 
to  him  a  sharpness  of  perception  which  af 
fected  the  quiescence  of  his  enjoyment.  He 
rose  to  a  sitting  posture  and  looked  about  him. 
At  once  his  eyes  flashed,  every  nerve  and 
muscle  became  tense  and  the  blood  leaped 
turbulently  in  his  veins.  He  had  seen  that 
for  which  he  had  come  into  this  region,  the 
girl  who  had  so  reached  his  rude,  careless 
heart.  Lightfoot  was  very  near  him! 

The  girl,  all  unconscious,  was  sitting  upon 


LOVE  AND  DEATH  1 97 

the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree  which  lay  close  be 
side  a  creek.  There  was  an  abundance  of 
small  pebbles  upon  the  little  strand  and  the 
young  lady  was  absent-mindedly  engaged  in  an 
occupation  in  which,  to  the  observer,  she  took 
some  interest,  while  she,  no  doubt,  was  really 
thinking  of  something  else.  She  sat  there, 
slender,  beautiful  and  excelling,  in  her  way, 
the  belle  of  the  period,  merely  amusing  her 
self.  Her  toes  were  charming  toes.  There 
could  be  no  debate  on  that  point,  for,  while 
long  and  strong  and  flexible,  they  had  a  cer 
tain  evenness  and  symmetry.  They  were 
being  idly  employed  just  now.  At  the  creek's 
edge,  half  imbedded  in  the  ground,  uprose  the 
crest  of  a  granite  stone.  Picking  up  pebble 
after  pebble  in  her  admirable  toes,  Lightfoot 
was  engaged  in  throwing  them,  one  after  an 
other,  at  the  outstanding  point  of  granite, 
utilizing  in  the  performance  only  those  toes 
and  the  brown  leg  below  the  knee.  She  did 
exceedingly  well  and  hit  the  red-brown  target 
often.  Ab,  hot-headed  and  fierce  lover  in  the 
tree  top,  looked  on  admiringly.  How  perfect 
of  form  was  she;  how  bright  the  face!  and 
then,  forgetting  himself,  he  cried  aloud  and 
slid  from  the  branch  as  easily  and  swiftly  as 


198  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

any  serpent  and  started  running  toward  th& 
girl.  He  must  have  her! 

With  his  cry,  the  girl  leaped  to  her  feet, 
and  as  he  reached  the  ground,  recognized  him 
on  the  instant.  She  knew  in  the  same  in 
stant  that  they  had  felt  together  and  that  it 
was  not  by  accident  that  he  was  near  her. 
She  had  felt  as  he;  so  far  as  a  woman  may 
feel  with  a  man;  but  maidens  are  maidens, 
and  sweet  lightness  dreads  force,  and  a  modi 
fied  terror  came  upon  her.  She  paused  for 
a  moment,  then  turned  and  ran  toward  the 
upland  forest. 

Not  a  moment  hesitating  or  faltering  as 
affected  by  the  girl's  action  was  the  young 
man  who  had  tumbled  from  the  tree  bed. 
The  blood  dancing  within  him  and  the  great 
natural  impulse  of  gaining  what  was  greatest 
to  him  in  life  controlled  him  now.  He  was 
hot  with  fierce  lovingness.  He  ran  well,  but 
he  did  not  run  better  than  the  graceful  thing 
before  him. 

Even  for  the  critical  being  of  the  great 
cities  of  to-day,  the  one  who  "manages'* 
races  of  all  sorts,  it  would  have  been  worth 
while  to  see  this  race  in  the  forest.  As  the 
doe  leaps,  scarcely  touching  the  ground,  ra» 


LOVE  AND  DEATH  1 99 

Lightfoot.  As  the  wolf  or  hound  runs,  less 
swift  for  the  moment,  but  tireless,  ran  the  man 
behind  her.  Yet  of  all  the  men  in  the  cave 
region,  this  flying  girl  wanted  most  this  man 
to  take  her!  It  was  the  maidenly  force-dread 
ing  instinct  alone  which  made  her  run. 

Ab,  dogged  and  enduring,  lost  no  space  as 
the  race  led  away  toward  the  hill  and  home  of 
the  fleet  thing  ahead  of  him.  There  were 
miles  to  be  covered,  and  therein  he  had  hope. 
They  were  on  the  straight  path  to  Hilltop's 
cave,  though  there  were  divergent,  curving 
side  paths  almost  as  available;  but  to  avoid 
her  pursuer,  the  fugitive  could  take  none  of 
these.  There  were  cross-cuts  everywhere. 
In  leaving  the  direct  path  she  would  but  lose 
ground.  To  reach  soon  enough  by  straight, 
clean  running  the  towering  wooded  hill  in 
which  was  her  father's  cave  seemed  the  only 
hope  of  the  half-unwilling  fugitive. 

There  were  descents  and  ascents  in  the  long 
chase  and  plateaus  where  the  running  was  on 
level  ground.  Straining  forward,  gaining 
little,  but  confident  of  overtaking  the  girl, 
Ab,  deep-chested  and  physically  untroubled, 
pressed  onward,  when  he  noted  that  the  girl 
made  a  sudden  spurt  and  bounded  forward 


200  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

with  a  speed  not  shown  before,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  she  swerved  from  the  right  of  the 
path. 

It  was  not  Ab  who  had  made  her  swerve. 
Some  new  alarm  had  come  to  her.  She  was 
about  to  reach  and,  as  Ab  supposed,  pass  one 
of  the  inletting  paths  entering  almost  at  right 
angles  from  the  left.  She  did  not  pass  it. 
She  leaped  into  it  in  evident  terror  and  then, 
breaking  out  from  the  wood  on  the  right,  came 
another  form  and  one  surely  in  swift  following. 
Ab  knew  the  figure  well.  Oak  was  the  new 
pursuer! 

The  awful  rage  which  rose  in  the  heart  of 
Ab  as  he  saw  what  was  happening  is  what 
can  no  more  be  described  than  one  can  tell 
what  a  tiger  in  the  jungle  thinks.  He  saw 
another — the  other  his  friend — pursuing  and 
intending  to  take  what  he  wanted  to  be  his 
and  what  had  become  to  him  more  than  all 
else  in  the  world;  more  than  much  eating  and 
the  skins  of  things  to  keep  him  warm,  more 
than  a  mammoth's  tooth  to  carve,  more  than 
the  glorious  skin  of  the  great  cave  tiger,  the 
possession  of  which  made  a  rude  nobility,  more 
than  anything  and  all  else!  He  leaped  aside 
from  the  path.  He  knew  well  the  other  p*th 


LOVE  AND  DEATH  2OI 

upon  which  were  running  Oak  and  Lightfoot. 
He  knew  that  he  could  intercept  them,  because, 
though  the  running  was  not  so  good,  the  dis 
tance  to  be  covered  was  much  less,  for  to  him 
path  running  was  a  light  matter.  In  the  wood 
he  ran  as  easily  and  leaped  as  well  and  at 
tained  a  point  almost  as  quickly  as  the  beasts. 
There  was  a  stress  of  effort  and,  as  the  shadows 
deepened,  he  burst  m  upon  the  cross  path 
where  he  knew  were  the  fleeing  Lightfoot  and 
following  Oak.  He  had  thought  to  head  them 
off,  but  Ab  was  not  the  only  man  who  was 
swift  of  foot  in  the  cave  country.  They  passed, 
almost  as  he  bounded  from  the  forest.  He 
saw  them  close  together  not  many  yards  ahead 
of  him  and,  with  a  shout  of  rage,  bent  himself 
in  swift  and  terrible  pursuit  again. 

It  was  all  plain  to  Ab  now  as  he  flew  along, 
unnoted  by  the  two  ahead  of  him.  He  knew 
that  Oak  had,  like  him,  determined  to  own 
Lightfoot,  and  had  like  him,  been  seeking  her. 
Only  chance  had  made  the  chase  thus  cross 
Oak's  path;  but  that  made  no  difference. 
There  must  be  a  grim  meeting  soon.  Ab 
could  see  that  the  endurance  of  the  wonder 
fully  fleet-footed  woman  was  not  equal  to 
that  of  the  man  so  near  her.  She  would  soon 


202  THE  STORY  OF  A3 

be  overtaken.  Before  her  rose  the  hill,  not  a 
mile  in  its  slope,  where  were  her  father's  cave, 
and  safety.  He  knew  that  she  had  not  the 
strength  to  breast  it  fleetly  enough  for  covert. 
And,  as  he  looked,  he  saw  the  girl  turn  a 
frightened  face  toward  her  close  pursuer  and 
knew  that  she  saw  him  as  well.  Her  pace 
slackened  for  a  moment  as  this  revelation 
came  to  her,  and  he  felt,  somehow,  that  in 
him  she  recognized  comparative  protection. 
Then  she  recovered  herself  and  bent  all  the 
power  she  had  toward  the  ascent.  But  Oak 
had  been  gaining  steadily,  and  now,  with  a 
sudden  rush,  he  reached  her  and  grasped  her, 
the  woman  shrieking  wildly.  A  moment  later 
Ab  rushed  in  upon  them  with  a  shout.  In 
stinctively  Oak  released  the  girl,  for  in  the  cry 
he  heard  that  which  meant  menace  and  im 
mediate  danger.  As  Lightfoot  felt  herself 
free  she  stood  for  a  moment  or  two  without  a 
movement,  with  wide-open  eyes,  looking  upon 
what  was  happening  before  her.  Then  she 
bounded  away,  not  looking  backward  as  she 
ran. 

The  two  men  stood  there  glaring  at  each 
other,  Oak  perched,  and  yet  not  perched,  so 
broad  and  perfect  was  hi?  foothold,  on  the 


LOVE  AND  DEATH  203 

crest  of  a  slight  shelf  of  the  downward  slope. 
There  stood  the  two  men,  poised,  the  one 
above,  the  other  below,  two  who  had  been  as 
close  together  from  childhood  as  all  the  attri 
butes  of  mind  and  body  might  allow,  and  yet 
now  as  far  apart  as  human  beings  may  be. 
They  were  beautiful  in  a  way,  each  in  his 
murderous,  unconscious  posing  for  the  leap. 
The  sun  hit  the  blue  ax  of  Oak  and  made  it 
look  a  gray.  The  raised  ax  of  Ab,  which  was 
of  a  lighter  colored  stone,  was  in  the  shade 
and  its  yellowness  was  darkened  into  brown. 
The  spectacle  lasted  for  but  a  second.  As 
Oak  leaped  Ab  bounded  aside  and  they  stood 
upon  a  level,  a  tiny  plateau,  and  there  was 
fierce,  strong  fencing.  One  could  not  note 
its  methods;  even  the  keen-eyed  wolverine, 
crouching  low  upon  an  adjacent  monster  limb, 
could  never  have  followed  the  swift  move 
ments  of  these  stone  axes.  The  dreadful  play 
was  brief.  The  clash  of  stone  together 
ceased  as  there  came  a  duller  sound,  which 
told  that  stone  had  bitten  bone.  Oak,  slightly 
the  higher  of  the  two,  as  they  stood  thus  in 
the  fray,  leaned  forward  suddenly,  his  arms 
aloft,  while  from  his  hand  dropped  the  blue 
ax.  He  floundered  down  uncouthly  and 


204  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

grasped  the  beech  leaves  with  his  hands,  and 
then  lay  still.  Ab  stood  there  weaponless,  a 
creature  wandering  of  mind.  His  yellow  ax 
had  parted  from  his  hand,  sunk  deeply  into 
the  skull  of  Oak,  and  he  looked  upon  it  curi 
ously  and  vacantly.  He  was  not  sane.  He 
stepped  forward  and  pulled  the  ax  away  and 
lifted  it  to  a  level  with  his  eyes  and  went  to 
where  the  sunlight  shone.  The  ax  was  not 
yellow  any  more.  Meanwhile  a  girl  was  flit 
ting  toward  her  home  and  the  shadows  of  the 
waning  day  were  deepening. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A   RACE   WITH    DREAD. 

AB  looked  toward  the  forest  wherein  Light- 
foot  had  fled  and  then  looked  upon  that  which 
lay  at  his  feet.  It  was  Oak — there  were  the 
form  and  features  of  his  friend — but,  some 
how,  it  was  not  Oak.  There  was  too  much 
silence  and  the  blood  upon  the  leaves  seemed 
far  too  bright.  His  rage  departed,  and  he 
wanted  Oak  to  answer  and  called  to  him,  but 
Oak  did  not  answer.  Then  came  slowly  to 
him  the  idea  that  Oak  was  dead  and  that  the 
wild  beasts  would  that  night  devour  the  dead 
man  where  he  lay.  The  thought  nerved  him 
to  desperate,  sudden  action.  He  leaped  for 
ward,  he  put  his  arms  about  the  body  and 
carried  it  away  to  a  hollow  in  the  wooded 
slope.  He  worked  madly,  doing  some  things 
as  he  had  seen  the  cave  people  do  at  other 
buryings.  He  placed  the  weapons  of  Oak 
beside  him.  He  took  from  his  belt  his  own 
knife,  because  it  was  better  than  that  of  Oak, 
and  laid  it  close  to  the  dead  man's  hand,  and 
305 


206  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

then,  first  covering  the  body  with  beecn 
leaves,  he  worked  frantically  upon  the  over 
hanging  soil,  prying  it  down  with  a  sharp- 
pointed  fragment  of  limb,  and  tossing  in  upon 
all  as  heavy  stones  as  he  could  lift,  until  a 
great  cairn  rose  above  the  hunter  who  would 
hunt  no  more. 

Panting  with  his  efforts,  Ab  sat  himself 
down  upon  a  rock  and  looked  upon  the  mon 
ument  he  had  raised.  Again  he  called  to 
Oak,  but  there  was  still  no  answer.  The 
sun  had  set,  evening  shadows  thickened  around 
him.  Then  there  came  upon  the  live  man  a 
feeling  as  dreadful  as  it  was  new,  and,  with  a 
yell,  which  was  almost  a  shriek,  he  leaped  to 
his  feet  and  bounded  away  in  fearful  flight. 

He  only  knew  this,  that  there  was  some 
thing  hurt  his  inside  of  body  and  soul,  but  not 
the  inside  of  him  as  it  had  been  when  once 
he  had  eaten  poisonous  berries  or  when  he 
had  eaten  too  much  of  the  little  deer.  It  was 
something  different.  It  was  an  awful  oppres 
sion,  which  seemed  to  leave  his  body,  in  a 
manner,  unfeeling  but  which  had  a  great 
dread  about  it  and  which  made  him  think  and 
think  of  the  dead  man,  and  made  him  want 
to  run  away  and  keep  running.  He  had  al- 


A  RACE  WITH  DREAD  207 

ready  run  far  that  day,  but  he  was  not  tired 
now.  His  legs  seemed  to  have  the  hard 
sinews  of  the  stag  in  them  but  up  toward  the 
top  of  him  was  something  for  them  to  carry 
away  as  fast  and  far  as  possible  from  some 
where.  He  raced  from  the  dense  woodland 
down  into  the  broad  morass  to  the  west — be 
yond  which  was  the  rock  country — and  into 
which  he  had  rarely  ventured,  so  treacherous 
its  ways.  What  cared  he  now!  He  made 
great  leaps  and  his  muscles  and  sinews  re 
sponded  to  the  thought  of  him.  To  cross 
that  morass  safely  required  a  touch  on  tus 
socks  and  an  upbounding  aside,  a  zig-zag  ex 
hibition  of  great  strength  and  knowingness 
and  recklessness.  But  it  was  unreasoning;  it 
was  the  instinct  begotten  of  long  training  and, 
now,  of  the  absence  of  all  nervousness.  Each 
taut  toe  touched  each  point  of  bearing  just  as 
was  required  above  the  quagmire,  and,  all  un- 
perceiving  and  uncaring,  he  fled  over  dirty 
death  as  easily  as  he  might  have  run  upon 
some  hardened  woodland  pathway.  He  did 
not  think  nor  know  nor  care  about  what  he 
was  doing.  He  was  only  running  away  from 
the  something  he  had  never  known  before! 
Why  should  he  be  running  now  ?  He  had 


208  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

killed  things  before  and  not  cared  and  had 
forgotten.  Why  should  he  care  now  ?  But 
there  was  the  something  which  made  him  run. 
And  where  was  Oak  ?  Would  Oak  meet  him 
again  and  would  they  hunt  together  ?  No, 
Oak  would  not  come,  and  he,  this  Ab,  had 
made  it  so!  He  must  run.  No  one  was  fol 
lowing  him — he  knew  that — but  he  must  run! 

The  marsh  was  passed,  night  had  fallen, 
but  he  ran  on,  pressing  into  the  bear  and 
tiger  haunted  forest  beyond.  Anything,  any 
thing,  to  make  him  forget  the  strange  feeling 
and  the  thing  which  made  him  run!  He 
plunged  into  a  forest  path,  utterly  reckless, 
wanting  relief,  a  seeker  for  whatever  might 
come. 

In  that  age  and  under  such  conditions  as  to 
locality  it  was  inevitable  that  the  creature, 
man,  running  through  such  a  forest  path  at 
night,  must  face  some  fierce  creature  of  the 
carnivora  seeking  his  body  for  food.  Ab, 
blinded  of  mood,  cared  not  for  and  avoided 
not  a  fight,  though  it  might  be  with  the  mon 
ster  bear  or  even  the  great  tiger.  There  was 
no  reason  in  his  madness.  He  was,  though 
he  knew  it  not,  a  practical  suicide,  yet  one 
who  would  die  fighting.  What  to  him  were 


A  RACE  WITH  DREAD  209 

weight  and  strength  to-night  ?  What  to  him 
were  such  encounters  as  might  come  with 
hungry  four-footed  things  ?  It  would  but  re 
lieve  him  were  some  of  the  beasts  to  try  to 
gain  his  life  and  eat  his  body.  His  being 
seemed  valueless,  and  as  for  the  wild  beasts — 
and  here  came  out  the  splendid  death-facing 
quality  of  the  cave  man — well,  it  would  be 
odd  if  there  were  not  more  deaths  than  one! 
But  all  this  was  vague  and  only  a  minor  part 
of  thought. 

Sometimes,  as  if  to  invite  death,  he  yelled 
as  he  ran.  He  yelled  whenever  in  his  fleeting 
visions  he  saw  Oak  lying  dead  again.  So  ran 
the  man  who  had  killed  another. 

There  was  a  growl  ahead  of  him,  a  sudden 
breaking  away  of  the  bushes,  and  then  he  was 
thrown  back,  stunned  and  bleeding,  because 
a  great  paw  had  smitten  him.  Whatever  the 
beast  might  be,  it  was  hungry  and  had  found 
what  seemed  easy  prey.  There  was  a  differ 
ence,  though,  which  the  animal, — it  was 
doubtless  a  bear — unfortunately  for  him,  did 
not  comprehend,  between  the  quality  of  the 
being  he  proposed  to  eat  just  now  and  of 
other  animals  included  in  his  ordinary  menu. 
But  the  bear  did  not  reason;  he  but  plunged 


210  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

forward  to  crush  out  the  remaining  life  of  the 
runner  his  great  paw  had  driven  back  and 
down  and  then  to  enjoy  his  meal. 

The  man  was  little  hurt.  His  skin  coat 
had  somewhat  protected  him  and  his  sinewy 
body  had  such  toughness  that  the  hurling  of 
it  backward  for  a  few  feet  was  not  anything 
involving  a  fatality.  Very  surely  and  suddenly 
had  been  thrust  upon  him  now  the  practical 
lesson  of  being  or  dying,  and  it  was  good  for 
the  half-crazed  runner,  for  it  cleared  his  mind. 
But  it  made  him  no  less  desperate  or  careless. 
With  strength  almost  maniacal  he  leaped  at 
what  he  would  have  fled  from  at  any  other 
time,  and,  swinging  his  ax  with  the  quickness 
of  light,  struck  tremendously  at  the  great 
lowering  head.  He  yelled  again  as  he  felt 
stone  cut  and  crash  into  bone,  though  himself 
swept  aside  once  more  as  a  great  paw,  side- 
struck,  hurled  him  into  the  bushes.  He 
bounded  to  his  feet  and  saw  something  huge 
and  dark  and  gasping  floundering  in  the  path 
way.  He  thought  not  but  ran  on  panting. 
By  some  strange  freak  of  forest  fortune  abet 
ting  might  the  man  wandering  of  mind  had 
driven  his  ax  nearly  to  the  haft  into  the  skull 
of  his  huge  assailant.  It  may  be  that  never 


A  RACE  WITH  DREAD  211 

before  had  a  cave  man,  thus  armed,  done  so 
well.  The  slayer  ran  on  wildly,  and  now 
weaponless. 

Soon  to  the  runner  the  scene  changed.  The 
trees  crowded  each  other  less  closely  and 
there  was  less  of  defined  pathway.  There 
came  something  of  an  ascent  and  he  breasted 
it,  though  less  swiftly,  for,  despite  the  impel 
ling  force,  nature  hadclaims,  and  muscles  were 
wearying  of  their  work.  Fewer  and  fewer 
grew  the  trees.  He  knew  that  he  was  where 
there  was  now  a  sweep  of  rocky  highlands  and 
that  he  was  not  far  from  the  Fire  Country,  of 
which  Old  Mok  had  so  often  told  him.  He 
burst  into  the  open,  and  as  he  came  out  under 
the  stars,  which  he  could  see  again,  he  heard 
an  ominous  whine,  too  near,  and  a  distant 
howl  behind  him.  A  wolf  pack  wanted  him. 

He  shuddered  as  he  ran.  The  life  instinct 
was  fully  awakened  in  him  now,  as  the  dread 
from  which  he  had  run  became  more  distant. 
Had  he  heard  that  close  whine  and  distant 
howl  before  he  fairly  reached  the  open  he 
would  have  sought  a  treetop  for  refuge.  Now 
it  was  too  late.  He  must  run  ahead  blindly 
across  the  treeless  space  for  such  harborage 
as  might  come.  Far  ahead  of  him  he  could 


212  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

see  light,  the  light  of  fire,  reaching  out  toward 
him  through  the  darkness.  He  was  panting 
and  wearied,  but  the  sounds  behind  him  were 
spur  enough  to  bring  the  nearly  dead  to  life. 
He  bowed  his  head  and  ran  with  such  effort 
as  he  had  never  made  before  in  all  his  wild 
and  daring  existence. 

The  wolves  of  the  time,  greater,  swifter  and 
fiercer  than  the  gaunt  gray  wolves  of  northern 
latitudes  and  historic  times,  ran  well,  but  so 
did  contemporaneous  man  run  well,  and  the 
chase  was  hard.  With  his  life  to  save,  Ab 
swept  panting  over  the  rocky  ground  with  a 
swiftness  begotten  of  the  grand  last  effort  of 
remaining  strength,  running  straight  toward 
the  light,  while  the  wolf  pack,  now  gathered, 
hurled  itself  from  the  wood  behind  and  fol 
lowed  swiftly  and  relentlessly.  Ever  before 
the  man  shone  the  light  more  brightly;  ever 
behind  him  became  more  distinct  the  sound 
made  by  the  following  pack.  It  was  a  dire 
strait  for  the  running  man.  He  was  no  longer 
thinking  of  what  he  had  lately  done.  He 
ran. 

The  light  he  had  seen  extended  as  he  neared 
it  into  what  looked  like  a  great  fence  of  flame 
lying  across  his  way.  There  were  gaps  in  the 


A  RACE  WITH  DREAD  213 

fence  where  the  flame,  still  continuous,  was 
not  so  high  as  elsewhere.  He  did  not  hesi 
tate.  He  ran  straight  ahead.  Closer  and 
closer  behind  him  crowded  the  pursuing 
wolves,  and  straight  at  the  flame  he  ran. 
There  was  one  chance  in  many,  he  thought, 
and  he  took  it  without  hesitation.  Close  be 
fore  him  now  loomed  the  wall  of  flame.  Close 
behind  him  slavering  jaws  were  working  in 
anticipation,  and  there  was  a  strain  for  the 
last  rush.  There  was  no  alternative.  Straight 
at  the  fire  wall  where  it  was  lowest  rushed  Ab, 
and  with  a  great  leap  he  went  at  and  through 
the  curling  crest  of  the  yellow  flame! 

The  man  had  found  safety!  There  was  a 
moment  of  heat  and  then  he  knew  himself  to 
be  sprawling  upon  green  turf.  A  little  of  the 
strength  of  desperation  was  still  with  him  and 
he  bounded  to  his  feet  and  looked  about. 
There  were  no  wolves.  Beside  him  was  a 
great  flat  rock,  and  he  clambered  upon  this, 
and  then,  over  the  crest  of  the  flames  could 
see  easily  enough  the  glaring  eyes  of  his  late 
pursuers.  They  were  running  up  and  down, 
raging  for  their  prey,  but  kept  from  him  be 
yond  all  peradventure  by  the  fire  they  could 
not  face.  Ab  started  upright  on  the  rock 


214  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

panting  and  defiant,  a  splendid  creature  erect 
there  in  the  firelight. 

Soon  there  came  to  the  man  a  more  perfect 
sense  of  his  safety.  He  shouted  aloud  to  the 
flitting,  snarling  creatures,  which  could  not 
harm  him  now;  he  stooped  and  found  jagged 
stones,  which  he  sent  whirling  among  them. 
There  was  a  savage  satisfaction  in  it. 

Suddenly  the  man  fell  to  the  ground,  fairly 
groaning  with  exhaustion.  Nature  had  be 
come  indignant  and  the  time  for  recuperation 
had  been  reached.  The  wearied  runner  lay 
breathing  heavily  and  was  soon  asleep.  The 
flames  which  had  afforded  safety  gave  also  a 
grateful  warmth  in  the  chill  night,  and  so 
it  was  that  scarcely  had  his  body  touched  the 
ground  when  he  became  oblivious  to  all  about 
him,  only  the  heaving  of  the  broad  chest 
showing  that  the  man  lying  fairly  exposed  in 
the  light  was  a  living  thing.  The  varying 
wind  sometimes  carried  the  sheet  of  flame  to 
its  utmost  extent  toward  him,  so  that  the  heat 
must  have  been  intense,  and  again  would 
carry  it  in  an  opposite  direction  while  the  cold 
air  swept  down  upon  the  sleeping  man.  Noth 
ing  disturbed  him.  Inured  alike  to  heat  and 
cold,  Ab  slept  on,  slept  for  hours  the  sleep 


A  RACE  WITH  DREAD  215 

which  follows  vast  strain  and  endurance  in  a 
healthy  human  being.  Then  the  form  lying 
on  the  ground  moved  restlessly  and  muttered 
exclamations  came  from  the  lips.  The  man 
was  dre?ming. 

For  as  the  sleeper  lay  there — he  remem 
bered  it  when  he  awoke  and  wondered  over  it 
many  times  in  after  years — Oak  sprang  through 
the  flames,  as  he  himself  had  done,  and  soon 
lay  panting  by  his  side.  The  lapping  of  the 
fire,  the  snapping  and  snarling  of  the  wolves 
beyond  and  the  familiar  sound  of  Oak's  voice 
all  mingled  confusedly  in  his  ears,  and  then 
he  and  Oak  raced  together  over  the  rough 
ground,  and  wrestled  and  fought  and  played 
as  they  had  wrestled  and  fought  and  played 
together  for  years.  And  the  hours  passed 
and  the  wind  changed  and  the  flames  almost 
scorched  him  and  Ab  started  up,  looking 
about  him  into  the  wild  aspect  of  the  Fire 
Country;  for  the  night  had  passed  and  the 
sun  had  risen  and  set  again  since  the  exhausted 
man  had  fallen  upon  the  ground  and  become 
unconscious. 

Ab  rolled  instinctively  a  little  away  from  the 
smoky  sheets  of  flame  and,  sitting  up,  looked 
for  Oak.  He  could  not  see  him.  He  ran 


,2 1 6  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

wildly  around  among  the  rocks  looking  for 
him  and  despairingly  called  aloud  his  name. 
The  moment  his  voice  had  been  hoarsely 
lifted,  "Oak!"  the  memory  of  all  that  had 
happened  rushed  upon  him.  He  stood  there 
in  the  red  firelight  a  statue  of  despair.  Oak 
was  dead;  he  had  killed  Oak,  and  buried  him 
with  his  own  hands,  and  yet  he  had  seen  Oak 
but  a  minute  ago!  He  had  bounded  through 
the  flames  and  had  wrestled  and  run  races 
with  Ab,  and  they  had  talked  together,  and 
yet  Oak  must  be  lying  in  the  ground  back 
there  in  the  forest  by  the  little  hill.  Oak  was 
dead.  How  could  he  get  out  of  the  ground? 
Fear  clutched  at  Ab's  heart,  his  limbs  trem 
bled  under  him.  He  whimpered  like  a  lost 
and  friendless  hound  and  crouched  close  to 
the  hospitable  fire.  His  brain  wavered  under 
the  stress  of  strange  new  impressions.  He  re 
called  some  mutterings  of  Old  Mok  about  the 
dead,  that  they  had  been  seen  after  it  was 
known  that  they  were  deep  in  the  ground,  but 
he  knew  it  was  not  good  to  speak  or  think  of 
such  things.  Again  Ab  sprang  to  his  feet.  It 
would  not  do  to  shut  his  eyes,  for  then  he  saw 
plainly  Oak  in  his  shallow  hole  in  the  dark 
earth  and  the  face  Ab  had  hurried  to  cover 


A  RACE  WITH  DREAD  217 

first  when  he  was  burying  his  friend,  there 
under  the  trees.  And  so  the  night  wore  away, 
sleep  coming  fitfully  from  time  to  time.  Ab 
could  not  explore  his  retreat  in  the  strange 
firelight  nor  run  the  risks  of  another  night 
journey  across  the  wild  beasts'  chosen  coun 
try.  He  began  to  be  hungry,  with  the  fierce 
hunger  of  brute  strength,  sharpened  by  ter 
rific  labors,  but  he  must  wait  for  the  morning. 
The  night  seemed  endless.  There  was  no  re 
lief  from  the  thoughts  which  tortured  him, 
but,  at  last,  morning  broke,  and  in  action  Ab 
found  the  escape  he  had  longed  for. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE    FIRE    COUNTRY. 

IT  was  light  now  and  the  sun  shone  fairly  on 
Ab's  place  of  refuge.  As  his  senses  brought 
to  him  full  appreciation  he  wondered  at  the 
scene  about  him.  He  was  in  a  glade  so  de 
pressed  as  to  be  a  valley.  About  it,  to  the 
east  and  north  and  west,  in  a  wavering,  toss 
ing  wall,  rose  the  uplifting  line  of  fire  through 
which  he  had  leaped,  though  there  were  spaces 
where  the  height  was  insignificant.  On  the 
south,  and  extending  till  it  circled  a  trifle  to 
east,  rose  a  wall  of  rock,  evidently  the  end  of 
a  forest-covered  promontory,  for  trees  grew 
thickly  to  its  very  edge  and  their  green 
branches  overhung  its  sheer  descent.  Coming 
from  some  crevice  of  the  rocks  on  the  east, 
and  tumbling  downward  through  the  valley, 
was  a  riotous  brook,  which  disappeared  through 
some  opening  at  the  west.  Within  this  area, 
thus  hemmed  in  by  fire  and  rock,  appeared 
no  living  thing  save  the  birds  which  sang 
upon  the  bushes  beside  the  small  stream's 
218 


THE  FIRE  COUNTRY  2ig 

banks  and  the  butterflies  which  hung  above 
the  flowers  and  all  the  insect  world  which 
joined  in  the  soft,  humming  chorus  of  the 
morning.  It  was  something  that  Ab  looked 
upon  with  delighted  wonder,  but  without  un 
derstanding.  What  he  saw  was  not  a  mar 
vel.  It  was  but  the  result  of  one  of  many 
upheavals  at  a  time  when  the  earth's  cooled 
shell  was  somewhat  thinner  than  now  and 
when  earthquakes,  though  there  were  no  citiesk 
to  overthrow,  at  least  made  havoc  sometimes 
by  changing  the  face  of  nature.  There  had 
come  a  great  semi-circular  crack  in  the  earth, 
near  and  extending  to  the  line  of  the  sheer 
rock  range.  The  natural  gas,  the  product  of 
the  vegetation  of  thousands  of  centuries  be 
fore,  had  found  a  chance  to  escape  and  had 
poured  forth  into  the  outer  world.  Some 
thing,  perhaps  a  lightning  stroke  and  a  flam 
ing  tree,  perhaps  some  cave  man  making  fire 
and  consumed  on  the  instant  when  he  suc 
ceeded,  had  ignited  the  sheet  of  rising  gas, 
and  the  result  was  the  wall  of  flame.  It  was 
all  natural  and  commonplace,  for  the  time. 
There  were  other  upleaping  flame  sheets  in  the 
surrounding  region  forever  burning — as  there 
are  in  northern  Asia  to-day — but  Ab  knew  of 


220  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

these  fires  only  from  Old  Mok's  tales.  Hv 
stood  wonderstruck  at  what  he  saw  about  him. 
But  this  man  in  the  valley  was  young  and 
very  strong,  with  tissues  to  be  renewed,  and 
the  physical  man  within  him  clamored  and 
demanded.  He  must  eat.  He  ran  forward 
and  around,  anxiously  observant,  and  soon 
learned  that  at  the  western  end  of  the  valley, 
where  the  little  creek  tumbled  through  a  rocky 
cut  into  a  lower  level,  there  was  easy  exit 
from  the  fire-encompassed  and  protected  area. 
He  clambered  along  the  creek's  rough,  de 
scending  side.  He  emerged  upon  an  easier 
slope  and  then  found  it  possible  to  climb  the 
hillside  to  the  plane  of  the  great  wood.  There 
must,  he  thought,  be  food  of  some  sort,  even 
for  a  man  with  only  Oak's  knife  in  his  posses 
sion!  There  was  the  forest  and  there  were 
nuts.  He  was  in  the  forest  soon,  among  the 
gray-trunked,  black-mottled  beeches  and  the 
rough  brown  oaks.  He  found  something  of 
what  he  sought,  the  nuts  lying  under  shed 
leaves,  though  the  supply  was  scant.  But 
nuts,  to  the  cave  man,  made  moderately  good 
food,  supplying  a  part  of  the  sustenance  he 
required,  and  Ab  ate  of  what  he  could  find 


THE  FIRE  COUNTRY  221 

and  arose  from  the  devouring  search  and 
looked  about  him. 

He  was  weaponless,  save  for  the  knife,  and 
a  flint  knife  was  but  a  thing  for  closest  strug 
gle.  He  longed  now  for  his  ax  and  spear  and 
the  strong  bow  which  could  hurt  so  at  a  dis 
tance.  But  there  was  one  sort  of  weapon  to 
be  had.  There  was  the  club.  He  wandered 
about  among  the  tops  of  fallen  trees  and 
wrenched  at  their  dried  limbs,  and  finally  tore 
one  away  and  broke  off,  later,  with  a  prying 
leverage,  what  made  a  rough  but  available 
club  for  a  cave  man's  purposes.  It  was  much 
better  than  nothing.  Then  began  a  steady 
trot  toward  what  should  be  fair  life  again. 
There  were  vague  paths  through  the  forest 
made  by  wild  beasts.  As  he  moved  the  man 
thought  deeply. 

He  thought  of  the  fire-wall,  and  could  not 
with  all  his  reasoning  determine  upon  the 
cause  of  its  existence,  and  so  abandoned  the 
subject  as  a  thing,  the  nub  of  which  was  un- 
reachable.  That  was  the  freshest  object  in 
his  mind  and  the  first  to  be  mentally  disposed 
of.  But  there  were  other  subjects  which 
came  in  swift  succession.  As  he  went  along 
with  a  dog's  gait  he  was  not  in  much  terror, 


222  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

practically  weaponless  as  he  was.  His  eye 
was  good  and  he  was  going  through  the  forest 
in  the  daylight.  He  was  strong  enough,  club 
in  hand,  to  meet  the  minor  beasts.  As  for 
the  others,  if  any  of  them  appeared,  there 
were  the  trees,  and  he  could  climb.  So,  as 
he  trotted  he  could  afford  to  think. 

And  he  thought  much  that  day,  this  per 
plexed  man,  our  grandfather  with  so  many 
"greats"  before  the  word.  He  had  nothing 
to  divert  him  even  in  the  selection  of  the  course 
toward  his  cave.  He  noted  not  where  the  sun 
stood,  nor  in  what  direction  the  tiny  head 
waters  of  the  rivulets  took  their  course,  nor 
how  the  moss  grew  on  the  trees.  He  traveled 
in  the  wood  by  instinct,  by  some  almost  un- 
explainable  gift  which  comes  to  the  thing  of 
the  woods.  The  wolf  has  it;  the  Indian  has  it; 
sometimes  the  white  man  of  to-day  has  it. 

As  he  went  Ab  engaged  in  deeper  and  more 
sustained  thought  than  ever  before  in  all  his 
life.  He  was  alone;  new  and  strange  scenes 
had  enlarged  his  knowledge  and  swift  happen 
ings  had  made  keener  his  perceptions.  For 
days  his  entire  being  had  been  powerfully 
affected  by  his  meeting  with  Lightfoot  at  the 
Feast  of  the  Mammoth  and  the  events  which 


THE  FIRE  COUNTRY  22  3 

had  followed  that  meeting  in  such  swift  suc 
cession.  The  tragedy  of  Oak's  death  had 
quickened  his  sensibilities.  Besides,  what  had 
ensued  latest  had  been  what  was  required  to 
make  him  in  a  condition  for  the  divination  of 
things.  The  wise  agree  that  much  stimulant  or 
much  deprivation  enables  the  brain  convolu 
tions  to  do  their  work  well,  though  deprivation 
gets  the  cleaner  end.  The  asceticism  of  Mar 
cus  Aurelius  was  productive  of  greater  results 
than  the  deep  drinking  of  any  gallant  young 
Roman  man  of  letters  of  whom  he  was  a  patron. 
The  literature  of  fasting  thinkers  is  something 
fine.  Ab,  after  exerting  his  strength  to  the 
utmost  for  days,  had  not  eaten  of  flesh,  and 
the  strong  influences  to  which  he  was  subjected 
were  exerted  upon  a  man  still,  practically, 
fasting.  For  a  time,  the  rude  and  earth-born 
child  of  the  cave  was  lifted  into  a  region  of 
comparative  sentiment  and  imagination.  It 
was  an  experience  which  affected  materially 
all  his  later  life. 

Ever  to  the  trotting  man  came  the  feelings 
which  must  follow  fierce  love  and  deadly 
action  and  vague  remorse  and  fear  of  some 
thing  indefinable.  He  saw  the  face  and  form 
of  Lightfoot;  he  saw  again  the  struggle,  death- 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

ending,  with  the  friend  of  youth  and  of  mutual 
growing  into  manhood.  He  remembered  dimly 
the  half  insane  flight,  the  leaps  across  the 
dreaded  morass  and,  more  distinctly,  the  chase 
by  the  wolves.  The  aspect  of  the  Fire  Coun 
try  and  of  all  that  followed  his  awakening  was, 
of  course,  yet  fresh  in  his  mind.  He  waa 
burdened. 

Ever  uprising  and  oppressing  above  all  else 
was  the  memory  of  the  man  he  had  killed  and 
buried,  covering  the  face  first,  so  that  it  might 
not  look  at  him.  Was  Oak  really  dead?  he 
asked  himself  again!  Had  not  he,  Ab,  as  soon 
as  he  slept  again,  seen,  alive  and  well,  the  close 
friend  of  his?  He  clung  to  the  vision.  He 
reasoned  as  deeply  as  it  was  in  him  to  reason. 

As  he  struggled  in  his  mind  to  obtain  light 
there  came  to  him  the  fancy  of  other  things 
dimly  related  to  the  death  mystery  which  had 
perplexed  him  and  all  his  kind.  There  must 
be  some  one  who  made  the  river  rise  and  fall 
or  the  nut-bearing  forest  be  either  fruitful  or 
the  hard  reverse.  Who  and  what  could  it  be? 
What  should  he  do,  what  should  all  his  friends 
do  in  the  matter  of  relation  to  this  unknown 
thing? 

With  this  day  and  hour  did  not  come  really 


THE  FIRE  COUNTRY  223 

the  beginning  of  Ab's  thought  upon  the  sub 
ject  of  what  was,  to  him  and  those  he  knew, 
the  supernatural.  He  had  thought  in  the  past 
— he  could  not  help  it — of  the  shadow  and  the 
echo.  He  remembered  how  he  and  Oak  had 
talked  about  the  echo,  and  how  they  had 
tried  to  get  rid  of  the  thing  which  had  more 
than  once  called  back  to  them  insolently  across 
the  valley.  Every  word  they  shouted  this 
hidden  creature  would  mockingly  repeat  and 
there  was  no  recourse  for  them.  They  had 
once  fully  armed  themselves  and,  in  a  burst  of 
desperate  bravery,  had  resolved  to  find  who 
and  what  the  owner  of  this  voice  was  and  have, 
at  least,  a  fight.  They  had  crossed  the  valley 
and  ranged  about  the  woodland  whence  the 
voice  seemed  to  have  come,  but  they  never 
found  what  they  sought! 

The  shadow  which  pursued  them  on  sunny 
afternoons  had  puzzled  them  in  another  way. 
Very  persistent  had  been  the  flat,  black, 
earth-clinging  and  distorted  thing  which  fol 
lowed  them  so  everywhere.  What  was  this 
black,  following  thing,  anyhow,  this  thing 
which  swung  its  unsubstantial  body  around  as 
one  moved  but  which  ever  kept  its  own  feet  at 
the  feet  of  the  pursued,  wherever  there  was  no 
15 


226  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

shade,  and  which  lay  there  beside  one  so  per 
sistently? 

But  the  echoes  and  the  shadows  were  noth 
ing  as  compared  with  the  things  which  came 
to  one  at  night.  What  were  those  creatures 
which  came  when  a  man  was  sleeping?  Why 
did  they  escape  with  the  dawn  and  appear 
again  only  when  he  was  asleep  and  helpless, 
at  least  until  he  awoke  fairly  and  seized  his  ax? 

The  sun  rose  high  and  dropped  slowly  down 
toward  the  west,  where  the  far  ocean  was,  and 
the  shadows  somewhat  lengthened,  but  it  was 
still  light  along  the  forest  pathways  and  the 
untiring  man  still  hurried  on.  He  was  now 
close  to  his  country  and  becoming  careless  and 
at  ease.  But  his  imagination  was  still  busy; 
he  could  not  free  himself  of  memory.  There 
came  to  him  still  the  vision  of  the  friend  he  had 
buried,  hiding  his  face  first  of  all.  The  frenzy 
of  his  wish  for  knowing  rushed  again  upon  him. 
Where  was  Oak  now?  he  demanded  of  himself 
and  of  all  nature.  <  'Where  is  Oak?"  he  yelled 
to  the  familiar  trees  beside  his  path.  But  the 
trees,  even  to  the  cave  man,  so  close  to  them 
in  the  economy  of  wild  life,  so  like  them  in  his 
naturalness,  could  give  no  answer. 

So  the  cave  man  struggled  in  his  dim,  un- 


THE  FIRE  COUNTRY  227 

certain  way  with  the  eternal  question:  "If  a 
man  die  shall  he  live  again?"  So  the  human 
mind  still  struggles,  after  thousands  of  centuries 
have  contributed  to  its  development.  A  wall 
more  impassable  than  the  wall  of  flame  Ab 
had  so  lately  looked  upon  still  rises  between 
us  and  those  who  no  longer  live.  We  reach 
out  for  some  knowledge  of  those  who  have  died, 
and  go  almost  into  madness  because  we  can 
grasp  nothing.  Silence  unbroken,  darkness 
impenetrable  ever  guard  the  mystery  of  death. 
In  the  long  ages  since  the  cave  man  ran  that 
day,  love  and  hope  have  in  faith  erected,  be 
yond  the  grim  barriers  of  blackness  and  despair, 
fair  pavilions  of  promise  and  consolation,  but 
to  the  stern  examiners  of  physical  fact  and 
reality  there  has  come  no  news  from  beyond 
the  walls  of  silence  since.  We  clamor  tear 
fully  for  some  word  from  those  who  are  dead, 
but  no  answer  comes.  So  Ab  groped  and 
strove  alone  in  the  forest,  in  his  youth  and 
ignorance,  and  in  the  youth  and  ignorance  of 
our  race. 

Upon  the  pathway  along  the  river's  bank 
Ab  emerged  at  last.  All  was  familiar  to  him 
now.  There,  by  the  clump  of  trees  in  the  flat 
below,  was  the  place  where  he  and  Oak  had 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

dug  the  pit  when  they  were  but  mere  boys  and 
had  learned  their  first  important  lessons  in 
sterner  woodcraft.  Soon  came  in  sight,  as  he 
ran,  the  entrance  to  the  cave  of  his  own  family. 
He  was  home  again.  But  he  was  not  the  one 
who  had  left  that  rude  habitation  three  days 
before.  He  had  gone  away  a  youth.  He 
had  come  back  one  who  had  suffered  and 
thought.  He  came  back  a  man. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   WOOING   OF   LIGHTFOOT. 

LIGHTFOOT,  when  Ab  seized  Oak,  had  fled 
away  from  the  two  infuriated  men,  as  the  hare 
runs,  and  had  sped  into  the  forest.  She  had 
the  impetus  of  new  fear  now  and  ran  swiftly 
as  became  her  name,  never  looking  behind 
her,  nor  did  she  slacken  her  pace,  though 
panting  and  exhausted,  until  she  found  her 
self  approaching  the  cave  where  lived  her  play 
mate,  Moonface,  not  more  than  an  hour's  run 
from  her  own  home. 

The  fleeing  girl  was  fortunate  in  stumbling 
upon  her  friend  as  soon  as  she  came  into  the 
open  space  about  the  cave.  Moonface  was 
enjoying  herself  lazily  that  afternoon.  She 
was  leaning  back  idly  in  a  swing  of  vines  to 
which  she  had  braided  a  flexible  back,  and 
was  blinking  somnolently  in  the  sunshine  as 
the  visitor  leaped  from  the  wood.  Moonface 
recognized  her  friend,  gave  a  quavering  cry  of 
delight  and  came  slipping  and  rolling  reck 
lessly  to  the  ground  to  meet  her.  Lightfoot 
229 


230  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

uttered  no  word.  She  stood  breathless,  and 
was  rather  carried  than  led  by  Moonface  to 
an  easy  seat,  moss-padded,  upon  twisted  tree 
roots,  which  was  that  young  lady's  ordinary 
resting-place.  Upon  this  seat  the  two  sank, 
one  overcome  with  past  fear  and  present 
fatigue,  and  the  other  with  an  all-absorbing 
and  demanding  curiosity.  It  was  beyond  the 
ordinary  scope  of  the  self-restraining  forces  in 
Moonface  to  await  with  calm  the  recovery  of 
Lightfoot's  breath  and  powers  of  conversation. 
She  pinched  and  shook  her  friend  and  de 
manded,  half-crying  but  impatiently,  some 
explanation.  It  was  a  great  hour  for  Moon- 
face,  the  greatest  in  her  life.  Here  was  her 
friend  and  dictator  panting  and  terrified  like 
some  weak,  hunted-down  thing  of  the  wood. 
It  was  a  marvel.  At  last  Lightfoot  spoke: 

"They  are  fighting  at  the  foot  of  the  hill!" 
she  said,  and  Moonface  at  once  guessed  the 
whole  story,  for  she  was  not  blind,  this  wide- 
mouthed  creature. 

' '  Why  did  you  run  away?"  she  asked. 

"I  ran  because  I  was  scared.  One  ol 
them  must  be  dead  before  this  time.  I  am 
glad  I  am  alive  myself,"  Lightfoot  gasped. 
Then  the  girl  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 


THE  WOOING  OF  LIGHTFOOT  231 

as  she  recalled  Ab's  face,  distorted  by  passion 
and  murderous  hate,  and  Oak's  equally  mad 
dened  look  as,  before  the  onrush,  he  had 
grasped  her  so  firmly  that  the  marks  of  his 
fingers  remained  blue  upon  her  arms  and  slen 
der  waist  and  neck. 

Then  Lightfoot,  slow  to  regain  her  compos 
ure,  told  tremblingly  the  story  of  all  that  had 
occurred,  finding  comfort  in  the  unaffrighted 
look  upon  the  face,  as  well  as  in  the  reassur 
ing  talk,  of  her  easy-going,  unimaginative  and 
cheerful  and  faithful  companion.  She  re 
mained  as  a  guest  at  the  cave  overnight  and 
the  next  forenoon,  when  she  took  her  way  for 
home,  she  was  accompanied  by  Moonface. 
Gradually,  as  the  hours  passed,  Lightfoot  re 
gained  something  of  her  usual  frame  of  mind 
and  a  little  of  her  ordinary  manner  of  careless 
light-heartedness,  but  when  home  had  been 
reached  and  the  girls  had  rested  and  eaten 
tnd  she  heard  Moonface  telling  anew  for  her 
\he  story  of  the  flight  in  the  wood,  while  her 
father,  Hilltop,  and  her  two  strapping  brothers 
listened  with  interest,  but  with  no  degree  of 
excitement,  she  felt  again  the  wild  alarm  and 
\iorror  and  uncertainty  which  had  affected  her 
<vhen  first  she  fled  from  what  was  to  her  SQ 


232  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

dreadful.  She  crept  away  from  the  cave  door 
near  which  the  others  sat  enjoying  the  balmy 
midsummer  afternoon,  beckoning  to  one  of 
her  brothers  to  follow  her,  as  the  big  fellow 
did  unquestioningly,  for  Lightfoot  had  been, 
almost  from  young  girlhood,  the  dominant 
force  in  the  family,  even  the  strong  father, 
though  it  was  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the 
time,  admiring  and  yielding  to  his  one  daugh 
ter  without  much  comment.  The  great, 
hulking  youth,  well  armed  and  ready  for  any 
adventure,  joined  her,  nothing  loth,  and  the 
two  disappeared,  like  shadows,  in  the  depths 
of  the  forest. 

Lightfoot  had  been  the  housekeeper  in  the 
cave  of  Hilltop,  the  cave  of  the  greatest  hun 
ter  of  the  region,  young  despite  the  years 
which  had  encompassed  him,  and  father  of  two 
boys  who  were  fine  specimens  of  the  better 
men  of  the  time.  They  were  splendid  whelps, 
and  this  slim  thing,  whom  they  had  cared  for 
as  she  grew,  dominated  them  easily,  though 
the  age  was  not  one  of  vast  family  affection, 
while  chivalry,  of  course,  did  not  exist.  Hill 
top's  wife  had  died  two  years  before,  and 
Lightfoot,  with  unconscious  force,  had  taken 
her  mother's  place.  There  was  none  other 


THE  WOOING  OF  LIGHTFOOT  233 

with  woman's  ways  to  help  the  men  in  the 
rock-guarded  home  on  the  windy  hill.  Hilltop 
had  not  been  altogether  unthinking  all  this 
time.  He  had  often  looked  upon  his  daugh 
ter's  friend,  the  jolly,  swart  and  well-fed  Moon- 
face,  and  had  much  approved  of  her,  but,  to 
day,  as  he  listened  to  her  story,  he  did  not  pay 
such  attention  as  was  demanded  by  the  inter 
est  of  the  theme.  An  occasional  death,  though 
it  were  the  killing  of  one  cave  man  by  another, 
was  not  a  matter  of  huge  importance.  He 
was  not  inflamed  in  any  way  by  what  he  heard, 
but  as  he  looked  and  listened  to  the  comfort 
able  young  person  who  was  speaking,  the  idea, 
hastened  it  may  be  by  some  loving  and  do 
mestic  instinct,  grew  slowly  in  his  brain  that 
she  might  make  for  him  as  excellent  a  mate  as 
any  other  of  the  "good  matches"  to  be  found 
in  the  immediately  surrounding  country.  He 
was  a  most  directly  reasoning  person,  this 
Hilltop,  best  of  hunters  and  generally  re-~ 
spected  on  the  forest  ridges.  After  the  thought 
once  dawned  upon  him,  it  grew  and  grew,  and 
an  idea  fairly  developed  in  Hilltop's  mind 
meant  action.  His  fifty-five  years  of  age  had 
hardly  cooled  and  had  certainly  not  nearly 
approached  to  freezing  the  blood  in  his  out- 


234  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

standing  veins.  He  had  a  suit  to  make,  and 
make  at  once.  That  he  might  have  no  inter 
ruption  he  bade  Stone-Arm,  his  remaining  son, 
who  sat  on  a  rock  near  by,  and  who  had  lis 
tened,  open-mouthed,  to  the  recital  of  Moon- 
face,  to  seek  his  brother  and  Lightfoot  in  the 
forest  path.  There  might  be  beasts  abroad 
and  two  men  were  better  than  one,  said  this 
crafty  father-hunter-lover. 

The  boy,  clever  tracker  as  a  red  Indian 
or  Australian  trailer,  soon  found  the  path  his 
brother  and  Lightfoot  had  taken  and  joined 
them.  As  he  listened  to  what  they  were  say 
ing  he  was  glad  he  had  been  sent  to  follow 
them.  They  were  hastening  toward  the  val 
ley.  The  trees  were  beginning  to  cast  long 
shadows  when  the  three  came  to  where  the 
more  abrupt  hillside  reached  the  slope  and 
where  the  torn  ground,  broken  limbs  and  twigs 
and  deep-indented  footprints  in  the  soil  gave 
glaring  evidence  to  the  eye  of  yesterday's  strug 
gle.  But,  aside  from  all  this,  there  was  some 
thing  else.  There  was  a  carpet  of  yellowish- 
brown  leaves,  at  the  edge  of  the  circle  of  fray, 
where  a  man  had  fallen.  On  the  clean  stretch 
of  evenly  rain-packed  leaves  there  were  spots 
from  which  the  scarlet  had  but  lately  faded 


THE  WOOING  OF  LIGHTFOOT  235 

into  crimson.  There  was  a  place  where  the 
surface  was  disturbed  and  sunken  a  little.  All 
three  knew  that  a  man  had  died  there. 

The  two  young  men  and  their  sister  stood 
together  uttering  no  word.  The  men  were 
amazed.  The  woman  half  comprehended  all. 
She  did  not  hesitate  a  moment.  Guided  by  a 
sure  instinct,  Lightfoot  reached,  without 
thought  or  conscious  search,  the  spot  of  un 
natural  earth  which  reared  itself  so  near  to 
them,  the  spot  where  was  fresh  stone-covered 
soil  and  where  a  man  was  buried.  The  pile 
of  stones,  newly  heaped  upon  the  moist  earth, 
told  their  story. 

Someone  was  buried  there,  but  whom? 
Was  it  Oak  or  Ab? 

"Shall  I  dig?"  said  Stone-Arm,  making 
ready  for  the  task,  while  Branch,  his  elder 
brother,  prepared  for  work  as  well. 

"No!  No!"  cried  Lightfoot.  "He  is  buried 
deep  and  the  stones  are  over  him.  It  will  be 
night  soon  and  the  wolves  and  hyenas  would 
be  here  before  we  could  get  away.  Let  it  be. 
Someone  is  there,  but  the  one  who  killed  him 
has  buried  him.  He  will  come  back!"  The 
two  boys  were  silent,  and  Lightfoot  led  the 
way  toward  home. 


236  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

When  the  three  reached  the  cave  of  Hilltop 
the  sun  was  setting.  Something  had  hap 
pened  at  the  cave,  but  there  arises  at  this 
point  no  stern  demand  for  going  into  details. 
Hilltop,  brave  man,  was  no  laggard  in  wooing, 
and  Moonf ace  was  not  a  nervous  young  person. 
When  the  other  members  of  the  household 
reached  the  cave  Moonface  was  already  in 
stalled  as  mistress.  There  would  be  no  repri 
sals  from  an  injured  family.  The  girl  had 
lived  with  her  ancient  father,  whom  she  had 
half-supported  and  who  would,  possibly,  be 
transplanted  to  Hilltop's  cave  for  such  potter 
ing  life  as  he  was  still  capable  of  during  the 
rest  of  his  existence.  The  new  regime  was 
fairly  established. 

The  arrangement  suited  Lightfoot  well 
enough.  This  astounding  stepmother  had 
been  her  humble  but  faithful  friend.  Light- 
foot  was  a  ruling  woman  spirit  wherever  she 
was,  and  she  knew  it,  though  she  bowed  at  all 
times  to  the  rule  of  strength  as  the  only  law. 
Nevertheless  she  knew  how  to  get  her  own 
way.  With  Moonface,  everything  was  easy 
for  her  and  she  found  it  rather  pleasant  than 
otherwise  to  find  the  other  young  woman  made 
suddenly  a  permanent  resident  of  the  cave  in 


THE  WOOING  OF  LIGHTFOOT  237 

which  she  had  been  born  and  had  lived  all  her 
life.  As  the  two  girls  met,  and  the  situation 
was  curtly  announced  by  Hilltop,  their  faces 
were  worth  the  seeing.  There  was  alarm  and 
hopefulness  upon  the  countenance  of  Moon- 
face,  sudden  astonishment  and  indignation, 
and  then  reflection,  upon  the  face  of  Light- 
foot.  After  a  few  moments  of  thought  both 
girls  laughed  cheerfully. 

The  story  of  the  newly  found  grave  made 
but  little  impression  upon  the  group  and  Light- 
foot,  the  only  one  of  the  household  who  thought 
much  about  it,  thought  silently.  To  her  the 
single  question  was:  " Who  lay  there?"  There 
was  nothing  strange  to  the  others  of  the  family 
in  the  thought  that  one  man  should  have  killed 
another,  and  no  one  attached  blame  to  or  pro 
posed  punishment  of  the  slayer.  Sometimes 
after  such  a  happening,  the  cave  man  who  had 
slain  another  might  have  a  rock  rolled  sud 
denly  upon  him  from  a  height,  or  in  passing  a 
thicket  have  the  flint  head  of  a  spear  driven 
through  him,  but  this  was  only  the  deed,  per 
haps,  of  an  enraged  father  or  brother,  not  in 
any  sense  a  matter  of  course  in  the  way  of  jus 
tice,  and  even  such  attempt  at  reprisal  was 
not  the  rule. 


238  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

But  in  the  bosom  of  Lightfoot  was  a  weight 
like  a  stone.  It  was  as  heavy,  she  thought, 
as  one  of  the  stones  on  the  bare  ground  over 
the  body  of  the  man  who  lay  there  in  the  dark 
earth,  because  he  had  run  after  her.  Who 
was  it?  It  might  be  Ab!  And  all  through  the 
night  the  girl  tossed  uneasily  on  her  bed  of 
leaves,  as  she  did  for  nights  to  come. 

As  for  Moonface,  who  shall  say  what  that 
rotund  and  hairy  young  person  thought  when 
the  family  had  settled  down  to  the  changed 
order  of  things  and  she  had  adjusted  herself 
to  the  duties  of  a  matron  in  her  new  home? 
She  was  not  less  broadly  buoyant  and  beam 
ing,  but  who  can  tell  that,  when  she  noted 
Lightfoot's  burning  look  and  thoughtful  mien, 
Moonface  did  not  sometimes  think  of  the  two 
young  men  who,  but  yesterday,  had  rejoiced 
in  such  strength  and  vigor  and  charm  of  power 
and  who  were  so  good  to  look  upon?  She  was 
a  wife  now,  but  to  another  sort  of  man.  Even 
the  feminine  among  writers  of  erotic  novels 
have  not  yet  revealed  what  the  young  moon 
thinks  when  she  "holds  the  old  moon  in  her 
arms."  Anyhow,  Hilltop  was  a  defense  and 
a  great  provider  of  food.  He  was  a  fine  figure 
of  a  man,  too. 


THE  WOOING  OF  LIGHTFOOT  239 

Lightfoot  was  not  much  in  the  cave  now. 
She  lingered  about  the  open  space  or  wandered 
in  the  near  wood.  A  woman's  instinct  told 
her  to  be  out-doors  all  the  time  she  could.  A 
man  would  seek  her,  but  with  the  thought 
came  an  awful  dread.  Which  man?  One 
afternoon  she  saw  something. 

Two  gray  forms  flitted  across  an  open  space 
in  the  forest  near  the  cave,  and  in  a  moment 
the  girl  was  in  a  treetop.  What  followed 
was  the  unexpected.  Close  behind  the  gray 
things  came  a  man,  fully  armed,  straight, 
eager  and  alert  and  silent  in  his  wood  sur 
roundings,  with  eyes  roving  over  and  searching 
all  the  open  space  about  the  cave  of  Hilltop. 
The  man  was  Ab. 

The  girl  gave  a  shriek  of  delight,  then, 
alarmed  at  the  sound  she  had  made,  cowered 
behind  a  refuge  of  leaves  and  branches.  She 
was  happy  beyond  all  her  experience  before. 
The  question  which  had  been  in  all  her 
thoughts  was  answered!  It  was  Oak,  not  Abv 
who  lay  in  the  ground  on  the  hillside.  And, 
even  as  she  realized  this  fully,  there  was  a 
swift  upward  scramble  and  the  young  cave  man 
was  beside  her  on  the  limb.  There  was  no 
running  away  this  time.  The  girl's  face  told 


240  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

its  story  well  enough,  so  well  that  Ab,  still 
lately  doubting,  though  resolved,  knew  that 
his  fitting  mate  belonged  to  him.  There  came 
to  them  the  happiness  which  ever  comes  to 
lovers,  be  they  man  or  bird  or  beast,  and  then 
came  swift  conclusion.  He  told  her  she  must 
go  with  him  at  once,  told  her  of  the  new  cave 
and  of  all  he  had  done,  but  the  girl,  well  aware 
of  the  dangers  of  the  beast-haunted  region 
where  the  new  home  had  been  selected,  was 
thoroughly  alarmed.  Then  Ab  told  her  of  the 
little  flying  spears  which  Old  Mok  had  made 
for  him,  and  about  the  wonderful  bow  which 
sent  them  to  their  mark,  and  the  girl  was  re 
assured  and  soon  began  to  feel  exceedingly 
brave  and  proud  of  her  lover  and  his  prowess. 
No  need  of  carrying  off  a  girl  by  force  or 
craft  on  this  occasion,  for  Hilltop  had  fully 
recognized  Ab's  strength  and  quality.  The 
two  went  to  the  cave  together  and  there  was 
eating  and  then,  later,  two  skin-clad  human 
beings,  a  man  and  a  woman,  went  away  to 
gether  through  the  forest.  Their  journey  was 
a  long  one  and  a  careful  lookout  was  necessary 
as  they  hurried  along  a  pathway  of  the  strange 
corntry.  But  the  cave  was  reached  at  last, 


THE  WOOING  OF  LIGHTFOOT  241 

just  as  the  sun  burned  red  and  gave  a  rosy 
glow  to  everything. 

Silently  the  two  came  into  the  open  space 
in  front  of  what  was  to  be  their  fortress  and 
abode.  Solid  was  the  rock  about  the  entrance 
and  narrow  the  blocked  opening.  Smoke 
curled  in  a  pretty  spiral  upward  from  where 
smoldered  the  fire  Ab  had  made  the  day  before. 
Lightfoot  looked  upon  it  all  and  laughed  joy 
ously,  though  tremblingly,  for  she  had  now 
given  herself  to  a  man  and  he  had  brought  her 
to  his  place  of  living. 

As  for  the  man,  he  looked  down  upon  the 
girl  delightedly.  His  pulse  beat  fast.  He 
put  his  arm  about  her  and  together  they  en 
tered  the  cave.  There  was  a  marriage  but  no 
ceremony.  Just  as  robins  mate  when  they 
have  met  or  as  the  buck  and  doe,  so  faithful 
man  and  wife  became  these  two. 

Darkness  fell,  the  fire  at  the  cave  entrance 
flashed  up  fiercely  and  Ab  and  Lightfoot  were 
"at  home." 
16 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE     HONEYMOON. 

THE  sun  shone  brilliantly,  birds  were  sing 
ing  and  the  balsam  firs  gave  forth  their  morn 
ing  incense  as  Ab  and  Lightfoot  issued  from 
their  cave.  They  had  eaten  heartily,  and 
came  out  buoyant  and  delighted  with  the 
world  which  was  theirs.  The  chattering  of 
the  waterfowl  along  the  river  reached  their 
ears  faintly,  the  leaves  were  moved  by  a  gentle 
breeze,  there  was  a  hum  of  insects  in  the  air 
and  the  very  pulse  of  living  could  be  felt.  Ab 
carried  his  new  weapon  proudly,  hungering 
for  the  love  and  admiration  of  this  girl  of  his, 
and  eager  to  show  her  its  powers  and  to  ex 
hibit  his  own  skill.  At  his  back  hung  his 
quiver  of  mammoth  bone.  His  bow,  un 
strung,  was  in  his  hand.  In  front  of  the  cave 
was  a  bare  area  of  many  yards  in  extent, 
then  came  a  few  scattering  trees  and,  at  a 
distance  of  perhaps  two  hundred  yards,  the 
forest  began.  Across  the  open  space  of 
ground,  with  its  great  mass  of  branched 


THE  HONEYMOON  243 

crushed  together  not  far  from  the  cave's  mouth, 
had  fallen  one  of  the  gigantic  conifers  of  the 
time,  and  was  there  gradually  decaying,  its 
huge  limbs  and  bole,  disintegrating,  and  dry 
as  punk,  affording,  close  at  hand,  a  vast  fuel 
supply,  the  exceptional  value  of  which  Ab  had 
recognized  when  making  his  selection  of  a 
home.  Near  the  edge  of  the  little  clearing 
made  by  nature,  Ab  seated  himself  upon  a 
log,  and  drawing  Lightfoot  down  to  a  seat  be 
side  him,  began  enthusiastically  to  make  clear 
the  marvels  of  the  weapon  he  had  devised  and 
which  he  and  Old  Mok  had  developed  into 
something  startling  in  its  possibilities. 

All  details  of  the  explanation  made  by  the 
earnest  young  hunter,  it  is  probable,  Lightfoot 
did  not  comprehend.  She  looked  proudly  at 
him,  fingering  the  flint  pointed  arrows  curi 
ously,  yet  seemed  rather  intent  upon  the  man 
than  the  wood  and  stone.  But  when  he 
pointed  at  a  great  knot  in  a  tree  near  them 
and  bent  his  bow  and  sent  an  arrow  fairly 
into  the  target,  and  when,  even  with  her 
strength,  Lightfoot  could  not  pull  the  arrow 
out,  she  was  wild  with  admiration  and  excite 
ment.  She  begged  to  be  taught  how  to  use, 
herself,  this  wonderful  new  weapon,  for  she 


*44  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

recognized  as  readily  as  could  anyone  its 
adaptation  to  the  use  of  one  of  inferior 
strength.  The  delighted  lover  was  certainly 
as  desirous  as  she  that  she  should  some  day 
become  an  expert.  He  handed  her  the  bow, 
retaining,  slung  over  his  shoulder,  fortunately, 
as  it  developed,  the  bone  quiver  full  of  Old 
Mok's  best  arrows.  He  taught  her,  first,  how 
to  bend  and  string  the  bow.  There  were 
failures  and  successes,  and  there  was  much 
laughter  from  the  merry-hearted  Lightfoot. 
Finally,  it  happened  that  Ab  was  not  just  content 
with  the  quality  of  the  particular  arrow  which 
he  had  selected  for  Lightfoot's  use.  He  had 
taken  a  slender  one  with  a  clean  flint  head, 
but  something  about  the  notch  had  not  quite 
suited  him.  With  a  thin,  hard  stone  scraper, 
carried  in  a  pouch  of  his  furry  garb,  he  began 
rasping  and  filing  at  this  notch  to  make  it  bet 
ter  fit  the  string  of  tendons,  while  Lightfoot, 
with  the  bow  still  strung,  stood  beside  him. 
At  last,  tired  of  holding  the  thing  in  her  hands, 
she  passed  it  over  her  head  and  one  shoulder 
and  stood  there  jauntily,  with  both  hands 
free,  while  the  man  scraped  away  with  the 
one  little  flake  of  flint  in  his  possession,  and, 
as  he  worked,  paused  from  time  to  time  to 


THE  HONEYMOON  245 

note  how  well  he  was  rounding  the  notch  in 
the  end  of  the  slight  hardwood  shaft.  It  was 
just  as  he  was  holding  up  to  her  eyes  the 
arrow,  now  made  almost  an  ideal  one,  accord 
ing  to  his  fancy,  when  there  came  to  the  ears 
of  the  two  a  sound,  distinct,  ominous  and  im 
plying  to  them  deadly  peril,  a  sound  such 
that,  though  nerves  spoke  and  muscles  acted, 
they  were  very  near  the  momentary  paralysis 
which  sometimes  come  from  sudden  fearful 
shock.  From  close  beside  them  came  the  half 
grunt  and  half  growl  of  the  great  cave  bear! 
With  the  instinct  born  of  generations,  each 
leaped  independently  toward  the  nearest  tree, 
and,  with  the  unconscious  strength  and  celer 
ity  which  comes  to  even  wild  animals  with  the 
dread  of  death  at  hand,  each  clambered  to  a 
treetop  before  a  word  was  spoken.  Scarcely 
had  either  left  the  ground  before  there  was  a 
rush  into  the  open  glade  of  a  huge  brown 
hairy  form,  and  this  was  instantly  followed  by 
another.  As  Ab  and  Lightfoot  climbed  far 
amid  the  branches  and  looked  down,  they  saw 
upreared  at  the  base  of  each  tree  the  figure  of 
one  of  the  monsters  whose  hungry  exclama 
tions  they  knew  so  well.  They  had  been 
careless,  these  two  lovers,  especially  the  man. 


246  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

He  had  known  well,  but  for  the  moment  had 
forgotten  how  beast-infested  was  the  imme 
diate  area  about  his  new  home,  and  now  had 
come  the  consequence  of  his  thoughtlessness. 
He  and  his  wife  had  been  driven  to  the  tree- 
tops  within  a  few  yards  of  their  own  hearth 
stone,  leaving  their  weapons  inside  their  cave! 
Alarmed  and  panting,  after  settling  down 
to  a  firm  seat  far  aloft,  each  looked  about  to 
see  what  had  become  of  the  other.  Each  was 
at  once  reassured  as  to  the  present,  and  each 
became  much  perplexed  as  to  the  future.  The 
cave  bear,  like  his  weaker  and  degenerate  de 
scendant,  the  grizzly  of  to-day,  had  the  quality 
of  persistence  well  developed,  and  both  Ab 
and  Lightfoot  knew  that  the  seige  of  their 
enemies  would  be  something  more  than  for  the 
moment.  The  trees  in  which  they  perched 
were  very  close  to  the  wood,  but  not  so  close 
that  the  forest  could  be  reached  by  passing 
from  branch  to  branch.  Their  two  trees  were 
not  far  from  each  other,  but  their  branches 
did  not  intermingle.  There  was  a  distinct 
opening  between  them.  The  tree  up  which 
Lightfoot  had  scrambled  was  a  great  fir  tower 
ing  high  above  the  strong  beech  in  which  Ab 
had  found  his  safety.  Branches  of  the  fh 


THE  HONEYMOON  247 

hung  down  until  between  their  ends  and  Ab's 
less  lofty  covert  there  were  but  a  few  yards  of 
space.  Still,  one  trying  to  reach  the  beech 
from  the  lofty  fir  would  find  an  unpleasantly 
wide  gap. 

Each  of  the  creatures  in  the  tree  was  un 
armed.  Ab  still  bore  the  quiver  full  of  ad 
mirable  arrows,  and  across  the  breast  of  Light- 
foot  still  hung  the  strong  bow  which  she  had 
slung  about  her  in  such  blithesome  mood. 
Soon  began  an  exceedingly  earnest  conversa 
tion.  Ab,  eager  to  reach  again  the  fair  crea 
ture  who  now  belonged  to  him,  was  half  fran 
tic  with  rage,  and  Lightfoot  was  far  from  her 
usual  mood  of  careless  gaiety.  The  two  talked 
and  considered,  though  but  to  little  purpose, 
and,  finally,  after  weary  hours,  the  night  came 
on.  It  was  a  trying  situation.  Man  and  woman 
were  in  equal  danger.  The  bears  were  hungry 
- — and  the  cave  bear  knew  his  quarry.  The 
beasts  beneath  were  not  disposed  to  leave  the 
prey  they  had  imprisoned  aloft.  The  night 
grew,  but  either  Ab  or  Lightfoot,  looking 
down,  could  see  the  glare  of  small,  hungry 
eyes.  There  was  gentle  talk  between  the  two, 
for  this  was  a  great  strait  and,  in  straits,  souls, 
be  they  prehistoric,  historic  or  of  to-day, 


248  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

always  come  closer  together.  Very  much 
more  loving  lovers,  even,  than  they  were  be 
fore,  became  the  two  perched  aloft  that  night. 
It  was  a  comfort  for  the  wedded  pair  to  call  to 
each  other  through  the  darkness.  After  a 
time,  however,  muscles  grew  lax  with  the  con 
tinued  strain.  Weariness  clouded  the  spirits 
of  the  couple  and  almost  overcame  them  and 
only  the  thing  which  has  always,  in  great  stress, 
given  the  greatest  strength  in  this  world — the 
love  of  male  and  female — sustained  them. 
They  stood  the  test  pretty  well.  To  sleep  in 
a  tree  top  was  an  easy  thing  for  them,  with 
the  precautions,  simple  and  natural,  of  the 
time.  Each  plaited  a  withe  of  twigs  with 
which  to  be  tied  to  the  tree  or  limb,  and  rest 
ing  in  the  hollow  nest  where  some  great  limb 
joined  the  bole,  slept  as  sleep  tired  children, 
until  the  awakening  of  nature  awoke  these 
who  were  nature's  own.  When  Ab  awoke,  he 
had  more  on  his  mind  than  Lightfoot,  for  he 
was  the  one  who  must  care  for  the  two.  He 
blinked  and  wondered  where  he  was.  Then 
he  remembered  all,  suddenly.  He  looked 
across  anxiously  at  a  slender  brown  thing 
lying  asleep,  coiled  so  close  to  the  bole  of  the 
tree  to  which  she  was  bound  that  she  seemed 


THE  HONEYMOON  249 

almost  a  part  of  it.  Then  he  looked  down, 
and,  after  what  he  saw,  thought  very  seriously. 
The  bears  were  there!  He  looked  up  at  the 
bright  sky  and  all  about  him,  and  inhaled  all 
the  fragrance  of  the  forest,  and  felt  strong, 
and  that  he  knew  what  he  should  do.  He 
called  aloud. 

The  girl  awoke,  frightened.  She  would  have 
fallen  had  she  not  been  bound  to  the  tree. 
Gradually,  the  full  meaning  of  the  situation 
dawned  upon  her  and  she  began  to  cry.  She 
was  hungry,  her  limbs  were  stiffened  by  her 
bands,  and  there  was  death  below.  But  there, 
close  to  her,  was  the  Man.  His  voice  grad 
ually  reassured  her.  He  was  becoming  angry 
now,  almost  raging.  Here  he  was,  the  lord 
of  a  cave,  independent  and  master  as  much 
as  any  other  man  whom  he  knew,  perched  in 
one  tree  while  his  bride  of  a  day  was  in  the 
top  of  another,  yet  kept  apart  from  her  by  the 
brutes  below! 

He  had  decided  what  to  do,  and  now  he 
talked  to  Lightfoot  with  all  the  frankness  of 
the  strong  male  who  felt  that  he  had  another 
to  care  for,  and  who  realized  his  responsibility 
and  authority  together.  As  the  strength  and 
decided  personality  of  the  young  man  came  to 


250  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

her  through  his  voice,  the  young  woman  drew 
her  scanty  fur  robe  about  her  and  checked  her 
tears.  She  became  comparatively  calm  and 
reasonable. 

The  tree  in  which  Lightfoot  had  found 
refuge  had  many  long  slender  branches  lower 
ing  toward  the  giant  beech  into  which  the  man 
had  made  his  retreat.  Ab  argued  that  it  was 
possible — barely  possible — for  Lightfoot's  com 
pact,  agile,  slender  body  to  be  launched  in 
just  the  right  way  from  one  of  the  branches  of 
the  taller  tree,  and,  swinging  in  its  descent 
across  the  space  between  the  two,  lodge  among 
the  branches  of  the  beech  with  him.  Strong 
arms  ready  to  clasp  her  as  she  came  and  to 
withstand  the  shock  and  to  hold  her  safely  he 
promised  and,  to  enforce  his  plea,  he  pointed 
out  that,  unless  they  thus  took  their  fate  in 
hand,  there  was  starvation  awaiting  them  as 
they  were,  while  carrying  out  his  plan,  if  any 
accident  befell,  there  was  only  swift  though 
dreadful  death  to  reckon  with.  There  was 
one  chance  for  their  lives  and  that  chance 
must  be  taken.  Ab  called  to  his  young  wife: 

"Crawl  out  upon  a  branch  above  me,  swing 
down  from  it,  swing  hard  and  throw  yourself 


THE  HONEYMOON  251 

to  me.     I  will  catch  you  and  hold  you.     I  am 
strong." 

The  woman,  with  all  faith  in  the  man,  still 
demurred.  It  was  a  great  test,  even  for  the 
times  and  the  occasion.  But  hunger  was  upon 
her  and  she  was  cold  and  was,  naturally,  very 
brave.  She  lowered  herself  and  climbed  down 
and  reached  an  out-extending  limb,  and  there, 
across  the  gap,  she  saw  Ab  with  his  strong  legs 
twined  about  the  uprearing  branch  along  which 
he  laid,  with  giant  brown  arms  stretched  out 
confidently  and  with  eyes  steadily  regarding 
her,  eyes  which  had  love  and  longing  and  a 
lot  of  fight  in  them.  She  walked  out  along 
the  limb,  holding  herself  safely  by  a  firm  hand 
hold  on  the  limb  above,  until  the  one  her  bare 
feet  rested  upon  swayed  and  tipped  uncer 
tainly.  Then  came  her  time  of  trial  of  nerve 
and  trust.  Suddenly  she  stooped,  caught  the 
lower  limb  with  her  hands  and  then  swung 
beneath  it,  hanging  by  her  hands  alone,  and, 
hand  over  hand,  passed  herself  along  until  she 
reached  almost  its  end.  Then  she  began 
swaying  back  and  forth.  She  was  but  a  few 
yards  above  Ab  now,  dangling  in  mid-air, 
while,  below  her,  the  two  hungry  bears  had 
rushed  together  and  were  looking  upward  with 


252  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

red,  anticipating  eyes,  the  ooze  coming  from 
their  mouths.  The  moment  was  awful.  Soon 
she  must  be  a  mangled  thing  devoured  by 
frightful  beasts,  or  else  a  woman  with  a  life 
renewed.  She  looked  at  Ab,  and,  with  courage 
regained,  prepared  for  the  great  effort  which 
must  end  all  or  gain  a  better  lease  of  life. 

She  swung  back  and  forth,  each  drawing  up 
and  outreach  and  flexible  motion  of  her  arms 
giving  more  momentum  to  the  sway  and  con 
serving  force  for  the  launch  of  herself  she  was 
about  to  make.  The  desperation  and  strength 
of  a  wood-wise  creature,  so  bravely  combined, 
alone  enabled  her  to  obey  Ab's  hoarse  com 
mand. 

Ab,  with  his  arms  outreaching  in  their 
strength,  feeling  the  fierce  eyes  of  the  hungry 
bears  below  boring  into  his  very  heart,  leaned 
forward  and  upward  as  the  swing  of  the  woman 
reached  its  climax.  With  a  cry  of  warning, 
the  woman  launched  herself  and  shot  down 
ward  and  forward,  like  a  bolt  to  its  mark,  a 
very  desirable  lump  of  femininity  as  appear 
ing  in  mid-air,  but  one  somewhat  forcible  in  its 
alighting. 

Ab  was  strong,  but  when  that  girl  landed 
fairly  in  his  brawny  arms,  as  she  did  beauti- 


THE  HONEYMOON  253 

fully,  it  was  touch  and  go,  for  a  fraction  of  a 
second,  whether  both  should  fall  to  the  ground 
together  or  both  be  saved.  He  caught  her 
deftly,  but  there  was  a  great  shock  and  swing 
and  then,  with  a  vast  effort,  there  came  re 
covery  and  the  man  drew  himself,  shaking, 
back  to  the  support  of  the  branch  from  which 
he  had  been  almost  wrenched  away,  at  the 
same  time  placing  beside  him  the  object  he 
had  just  caught. 

There  was  absolute  silence  for  a  moment  or 
two  between  these  unconventional  lovers  to 
whom  had  come  escape  from  a  hard  situation. 
They  were  drawing  deep  breaths  and  recover 
ing  an  equilibrium.  There  they  sat  together 
on  the  strong  branch,  each  of  them  as  secure 
and,  for  the  moment,  as  perfectly  at  home  as 
if  lying  on  a  couch  in  the  cave.  Each  of  them 
was  panting  and  each  of  them  rejoicing.  It 
was  unlikely  that  upon  their  trained,  robust 
nerves  the  life-endangering  episode  of  a  mo 
ment  could  have  a  more  than  passing  effect. 
They  sat  so  together  for  some  minutes  with 
arms  entwined,  still  drawing  deep  breaths, 
and,  a  little  later,  began  to  laugh  chucklingly, 
as  breath  came  to  be  spared  for  such  exhibi 
tion  >f  human  feeling.  Gradually,  the  in- 


254  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

drawing  and  expelling  of  the  glorious  air 
shortened.  The  two  had  regained  their  nor 
mal  condition  and  Ab's  face  lengthened  and 
the  lines  upon  it  became  more  distinct.  He 
was  all  himself  again,  but  in  no  dallying  mood. 
He  gave  a  triumphant  whoop  which  echoed 
through  the  forest,  shook  his  clenched  hand 
savagely  at  the  brutes  below  and  reached  to 
ward  Lightfoot  for  the  bow  which  hung  about 
her  shoulden. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

MORE   OF   THE    HONEYMOON. 

THE  brown,  downy  woman  knew,  on  the 
instant,  what  was  her  husband's  mood  and 
immediate  intent  when  he  thus  shouted  and 
took  into  his  own  keeping  again  the  stiff  bow 
which  hung  about  her  shoulders.  She  knew 
that  her  lord  was  not  merely  in  a  glad,  but 
that  he  was  also  in  a  vengeful  frame  of  mind, 
that  he  wanted  from  her  what  would  enable 
him  to  kill  things,  and  that,  equipped  again, 
he  was  full  of  the  spirit  of  fight.  She  knew 
that,  of  the  four  animals  grouped  together, 
two  huge  creatures  of  the  ground  and  two 
slighter  ones  perched  in  a  tree  top,  the  chances 
were  that  the  condition  of  those  below  had 
suddenly  become  the  less  preferable. 

The  bow  was  about  Ab's  shoulders  instantly, 
and  then  this  preposterous  young  gentleman 
of  the  period  turned  to  the  woman  and  laughed, 
and  caught  her  in  one  of  his  arms  a  little  closer, 
and  drew  her  up  against  him  and  laid  his  cheek 
against  her  own  for  a  moment  and  drew  it 


256  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

away  and  laughed  again.  The  kiss,  it  is  be 
lieved,  had  not  fully  developed  itself  in  the 
cave  man's  time,  but  there  were  substitutes. 
Then,  releasing  her,  he  said  gleefully  and 
chuckingly,  "follow  me;"  and  they  clambered 
down  the  bole  of  the  beech  together  until  they 
reached  the  biggest  and  very  lowest  limb  of 
all.  It  was  perhaps  twenty  feet  above  the 
ground.  A  little  below  their  dangling  feet  the 
hungry  bears,  hitherto  more  patient,  now, 
with  their  expected  prey  so  close  at  hand,  be 
coming  desperately  excited,  ran  about,  frothing 
and  foaming  and  red-eyed,  uprearing  them 
selves  in  awful  nearness,  at  times,  in  their 
eagerness  to  reach  the  prey  which  they  had  so 
awaited  and  which,  to  their  intelligence, 
seemed  about  falling  into  their  jaws.  They 
had  so  driven  into  trees  before,  and  finally 
consumed  exhausted  cave  men  and  women. 
As  bears  went,  they  were  doubtless  logical 
animals.  They  could  not  know  that  there 
had  come  into  possession  of  this  particular 
pair  of  creatures  of  the  sort  they  had  occasion 
ally  eaten,  a  trifling  thing  of  wood  and  sinew 
string  and  flint  point,  which  was  destined 
henceforth  to  make  a  decided  change  in  the 
relative  condition  of  the  biped  and  quadruped 


MORE  OF  THE  HONEYMOON  257 

hunters  of  the  time.  How  could  they  know 
that  something  small  and  sharp  would  fly 
down  and  sting  them  more  deeply  than  they 
had  ever  been  stung  before,  that  it  would 
sting  so  deeply  that  their  arteries  might 
be  cut,  or  their  hearts  pierced  and  that 
then  they  must  lie  down  and  die?  The  well- 
thrown  spear  had  been,  in  other  ages,  a  vast 
surprise  to  the  carnivora  of  the  period,  but 
there  was  something  yet  to  learn. 

When  they  had  reached  the  huge  branch 
so  near  the  ground  both  Ab  and  Lightfoot 
were  for  a  moment  startled  and  lifted  their 
feet  instinctively,  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment 
in  the  case  of  the  man.  He  knew  that  he 
was  perfectly  safe  and  that  he  had  with  him 
an  engine  of  death.  He  selected  his  best  and 
strongest  arrow,  he  fitted  it  carefully  to  the 
string  and  then,  as  his  mother  had  done  years 
before  above  the  hyena  which  sought  her 
child,  he  reached  one  foot  down  as  far  as 
he  could,  and  swung  it  back  and  forth  tan- 
talizingly,  just  above  the  larger  of  the  hungry 
beasts  below.  The  monster,  fierce  with  hun 
ger  and  the  desire  for  prey,  roared  aloud  and 
upreared  himself  by  the  tree  trunk  and  tore 
the  bark  with  his  strong  claws,  throwing  back 


258  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

his  great  head  as  he  looked  upward  at  the 
quarry  so  near  him  and  yet  just  beyond  his 
reach.  This  was  the  man's  opportunity.  Ab 
drew  back  the  arrow  till  the  flint  head  rested 
close  by  his  out-straining  hand  and  the  tough 
wood  of  the  bow  creaked  under  the  thrust  of 
his  muscled  arm.  Then  he  released  the  shaft. 
So  close  together  were  man  and  bear  that 
archer's  skill  of  aim  was  not  required.  The 
brown  target  could  not  be  missed.  The  arrow 
struck  with  a  tear  and  the  flint  head  drove 
through  skin  and  tissue  till  its  point  protruded 
at  the  back  of  the  great  brute's  neck.  The 
bear  fell  suddenly  backward,  then  rose  again 
and  reached  blindly  at  its  neck  with  its  huge 
fore-paws,  while  from  where  the  arrow  had 
entered  the  blood  came  out  in  spurts.  Sud 
denly  the  bear  ceased  its  appalling  roars  and 
started  for  the  cave.  There  had  come  to  it 
the  instinct  which  makes  such  great  beasts 
seek  to  die  alone.  It  rushed  at  the  narrow 
entrance  but  its  course  was  scarcely  noted  by 
the  couple  in  the  tree.  The  other  bear,  the 
female,  was  seeking  to  reach  them  in  no  less 
savage  mood  than  had  animated  her  stricken 
mate. 

Not  often,  when  the  cave  man  first  learned 


MORE  OF  THE  HONEYMOON  259 

the  use  of  the  bow,  came  to  him  such  fortune 
with  a  first  strong  shot  as  that  which  had  so 
come  to  Ab.  Again  he  selected  a  good  arrow, 
again  shot  his  strongest  and  best,  but  the 
shaft  only  buried  itself  in  the  shoulder  and 
served  but  to  drive  to  absolute  madness  the 
raging  creature  thus  sorely  hurt.  The  for 
est  echoed  with  the  roaring  of  the  infuriated 
animal,  and  as  she  reared  herself  clambering 
against  the  tree  the  tough  fiber  was  rended 
away  in  great  slivers,  and  the  man  and  woman 
were  glad  that  the  trunk  was  thick  and  that 
they  owned  a  natural  citadel.  Again  and 
again  did  Ab  discharge  his  arrows  and  still  fail 
to  reach  a  vital  part  of  the  terror  below.  She 
fairly  bristled  with  the  shafts.  It  was  inevit 
able  that  she  must  die,  but  when  the  last  shot 
had  sped  she  was  still  infuriate  and,  appar 
ently,  as  strong  as  ever.  The  archer  looked 
down  upon  her  with  some  measure  of  de 
spondency  in  his  face,  but  by  no  means  with 
despair.  He  and  his  bride  must  wait.  That 
was  all,  and  this  he  told  to  Lightfoot.  That 
intelligent  and  reliable  young  helpmate  of  a 
few  hours,  who  had  looked  upon  what  had 
occurred  with  an  awed  admiration,  did  not 
exhibit  any  depression.  Her  husband,  fortu- 


260  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

nate  Benedict,  had  produced  a  great  effect 
upon  her  by  his  feat.  She  felt  herself  something 
like  a  queen.  Had  she  known  enough  and  had 
the  fancies  of  the  Ruth  of  some  thousands  of 
decades  later  she  would  have  told  him  how 
completely  thenceforth  his  people  were  her 
people  and  his  gods  her  gods. 

The  she  bear  became  finally  somewhat 
quieted;  she  tore  less  angrily  at  the  tree  and 
made  less  of  the  terrible  clamor  which  had  for 
the  moment  driven  from  the  immediate  region 
all  the  inmates  of  the  wood,  for  none  save  the 
cave  tiger  cared  to  be  in  the  immediate  neigh 
borhood  of  the  cave  bear.  Her  roars  changed 
into  roaring  growls,  and  she  wandered  stag 
geringly  about.  At  last  she  started  blindly 
and  weakly  toward  the  forest,  and  just  as  she 
had  passed  beneath  its  shadow,  paused, 
weaved  back  and  forth  for  a  moment,  and  then 
fell  over  heavily.  She  was  dead. 

Not  an  action  of  the  beast  had  escaped  the 
eyes  of  Ab.  Well  he  knew  the  ways  of 
wounded  things.  As  the  bear  toppled  over  he 
gave  utterance  to  a  whoop  and,  with  a  word 
to  the  girl  beside  him,  slid  lightly  to  the 
ground,  she  following  him  at  once.  It  was 
very  good  to  be  upon  the  earth  again.  Ab 


MORE  OF  THE  HONEYMOON  261 

stamped  with  his  feet  and  stretched  his  arms, 
and  the  woman  danced  upon  the  grass  and 
laughed  gleefully.  But  this  was  only  for  a 
moment  or  so.  Ab  started  toward  the  cave, 
and  as  he  reached  the  entrance,  gave  a  great 
cry  of  rage  and  dismay.  Lightfoot  ran  to  his 
side  and  even  her  ready  laugh  failed  her  when 
she  looked  upon  his  perplexed  and  stormy 
countenance  and  saw  what  had  happened. 
The  rump  of  the  monster  he  bear  was  what 
she  looked  upon.  The  beast,  in  his  instinctive 
effort  to  crawl  into  some  dark  place  to  die, 
had  fairly  driven  himself  into  the  cave's  en 
trance,  dislodging  some  of  the  stones  Ab  had 
placed  there,  had  wedged  himself  in  firmly, 
and  had  died  before  he  could  extricate  his 
great  carcass.  The  two  human  beings  were 
homeless  and,  with  all  the  arrows  gone, 
weaponless,  in  the  midst  of  a  region  so 
dangerously  infested  that  any  movement  afoot 
was  but  inviting  death.  They  were  hungry, 
too,  for  many  hours  had  passed  since  they 
had  tasted  food.  It  was  not  matter  of  sur 
prise  that  even  the  stout-hearted  cave  man 
stood  aghast. 

The  occasion  for  Ab's  alarm  was  fully  veri 
fied.     From  the  spot  where  the  cave  bear  lay 


262  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

at  the  loiest's  edge  came  a  sharp,  snapping 
growl.  The  lurking  hyenas  had  found  the 
food,  and  a  long,  inquiring  howl  from  another 
direction  told  that  the  wolves  had  scented  it 
and  were  gathering.  For  the  instant  Ab  was 
himself  almost  helpless  with  fear.  The  woman 
was  simply  nerveless.  Then  the  man,  so 
accustomed  to  physical  danger,  recovered 
himself.  He  sprang  forward,  seized  a  stout 
fragment  of  limb  which  might  serve  as  a  sort 
of  weapon,  and,  turning  to  the  woman,  said 
only  the  one  word  "fire." 

Lightfoot  understood  and  life  carne  to  her 
again.  None  in  all  the  region  could  make  a 
fire  more  swiftly  than  she.  Her  quick  eye 
detected  just  the  base  she  wanted  in  a 
punkish  fragment  of  wood  and  the  harder  and 
pointed  bit  of  limb  to  be  used  in  making  the 
friction.  In  a  time  scarcely  worth  the  noting 
the  point  was  whirling  about  and  burning  into 
the  wooden  base,  twirling  with  a  skill  and 
velocity  not  comprehensible  by  us  to-day,  for 
the  cave  people  had  perfected  wonderfully 
this  greatest  manual  art  of  the  time,  and 
Lightfoot,  muscular  and  enduring,  was,  as 
already  said,  in  this  thing  the  cleverest  among 
the  clever.  Ab,  with  ready  club  in  hand,  ad- 


MORE  OF  THE  HONEYMOON  263 

vanced  cautiously  toward  the  point  at  the 
wood's  edge  where  lay  the  body  of  the  bear. 
He  paused  as  he  came  near  enough  to  see 
what  was  happening.  Four  great  hyenas 
were  tearing  eagerly  at  the  flesh  of  the  dead 
brute,  and  behind  them,  deeper  in  the  wood, 
were  shining  eyes,  and  Ab  knew  that  the  wolf 
pack  was  gathering.  The  bear  consumed, 
the  man  and  woman,  without  defense,  would 
surely  be  devoured.  It  was  a  desperate  strait, 
but,  though  he  was  weaponless,  there  was  the 
cave  man's  great  resort,  the  fire,  and  there 
might  be  a  chance  for  life.  To  seek  the  tree 
tops  would  be  dangerous  even  now,  and  once 
ensconced  in  such  harborage,  only  starvation 
was  awaiting.  He  moved  back  noiselessly, 
with  as  little  apparent  motion  as  possible,  for 
he  did  not  want  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  gleaming  eyes  in  the  distance,  until  he 
came  near  Lightfoot  again,  and  then  he  aban 
doned  caution  of  movement  and  began  tearing 
frantically  at  the  limbs  and  debris  of  the 
great  dead  conifer,  and  to  build  a  semicircular 
fence  in  front  of  the  cave  entrance.  He  did 
the  swift  work  of  half  a  score  of  men  in  his 
desperation  and  anxiety,  his  great  strength 
serving  him  well  in  his  compelling  strait. 


264  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

Meanwhile  the  stick  twirled  and  rasped  in 
the  hands  of  the  brown  woman  seated  on  the 
ground,  and  at  last  a  tiny  thread  of  smoke 
arose.  The  continued  friction  had  done  its 
work.  Deft  himself  at  fire-making,  Ab  knew 
just  what  was  wanted  at  this  moment  and  ran 
to  his  wife's  side  with  punk  from  the  dead 
tree,  rubbed  to  a  powder  in  his  hard  hands. 
The  powder,  poured  gently  down  upon  the 
point  where  the  increasing  heat  had  brought 
the  gleam  of  fire,  burst,  almost  at  once,  into 
a  little  flame.  What  followed  was  simple  and 
easy.  Dry  twigs  made  the  slight  flame  a 
greater  one  and  then,  at  a  dozen  different 
points,  the  wall  which  Ab  had  built  was  fired. 
They  were  safe,  for  the  time  at  least.  Behind 
them  was  the  uprearing  rock  in  which  was  the 
cave  and  before  them,  almost  encircling  them 
completely,  was  the  ring  of  fire  which  no  wild 
beast  would  cross.  At  one  end,  close  to  the 
rock,  a  space  had  been  left  by  Ab,  that  he  and 
Lightfoot  might,  through  it,  reach  the  vast 
store  of  fuel  which  lay  there  ready  to  the  hand 
and  so  close  that  there  was  no  danger  in  visit 
ing  it.  Hardly  had  the  flame  extended  itself 
along  the  slight  wooden  barrier  than  the  whole 
wood  and  clearing  resounded  with  terrifying 


MORE  OF  THE  HONEYMOON  265 

sounds.  The  wolf  pack  had  increased  until 
strong  enough  to  battle  with  the  hyenas  for  the 
remainder  of  the  feast  in  the  wood,  and  their 
fight  was  on. 

The  feeling  of  terror  had  passed  away  from 
this  young  bride  and  groom,  with  the  assur 
ance  of  present  safety,  and  Ab  felt  the  need  of 
eating.  « 'There  is  meat,"  he  said,  as  he 
pointed  toward  the  haunches  of  the  bear,  half- 
protruding  from  the  rock,  "and  there  is  fire. 
The  fire  will  cook  the  meat,  and,  besides,  we 
are  safe.  We  will  eat!" 

The  bridegroom  of  but  a  day  or  two  said 
this  somewhat  grandiloquently,  but  he  was  not 
disposed  to  be  vain  or  grandiloquent  a  little 
later.  He  put  his  hand  to  the  belt  of  his  furry 
garb  and  found  no  sharp  flint  knife  there!  It 
had  been  lost  in  his  late  tree  clambering.  He 
put  his  hand  into  the  pouch  of  his  cloak  and 
found  only  the  flint  skin  scraper,  the  scraper 
with  which  he  had  improved  the  arrow's  notch, 
though  it  was  not  originally  intended  for  such 
use.  It  was  all  that  remained  to  him  of 
weapon  or  utensil.  But  it  would  cut  or  tear, 
though  with  infinite  effort,  and  the  man,  to  re 
assure  the  woman,  laughed,  and  assailed  the 
brown  haunch  before  him.  Even  with  his 


266  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

strength,  it  was  difficult  for  Ab  to  penetrate 
the  tough  skin  of  the  bear  with  an  implement 
intended  for  scraping,  not  for  cutting,  and  it 
was  only  after  he  had  finally  cut,  or  rather 
dug,  away  enough  to  enable  him  to  get  his 
fingers  under  the  skin  and  tear  away  an  area 
of  it  by  sheer  main  strength  that  the  flesh  was 
made  available.  That  end  once  attained, 
there  followed  a  hard  transverse  digging  with 
the  scraper,  a  grasp  about  tissue  of  strong,  im 
pressed  fingers,  and  a  shred  of  flesh  came 
away.  It  was  tossed  at  once  to  a  young  per 
son  who,  long  twig  in  hand,  stood  eagerly 
waiting.  She  caught  the  shred  as  she  had 
caught  the  fine  bit  of  mammoth  when  first  she 
and  Ab  had  met,  and  it  was  at  once  impaled 
and  thrust  into  the  flames.  It  was  withdrawn, 
it  is  to  be  feared,  a  trifle  underdone,  and  then 
it  disappeared,  as  did  other  shreds  of  excellent 
bear's  meat  which  came  following.  It  was  a 
sight  for  a  dyspeptic  to  note  the  eating  of  this 
belle-matron  of  the  region  on  this  somewhat 
exceptional  occasion. 

Strip  after  strip  did  Ab  tear  away  and  toss 
to  his  wife  until  the  expression  on  her  face  be 
came  a  shade  more  peaceful  and  then  it 
dawned  upon  him  that  she  was  eating  and 


MORE  OF  THE  HONEYMOON  267 

that  he  was  not.  There  was  clamor  in  his 
stomach.  He  sprang  away  from  the  bear,  gave 
Lightfoot  the  scraper  and  commanded  her  to 
get  food  for  him  as  he  had  done  for  her.  The 
girl  complied  and  did  as  well  as  had  done  the 
man  in  digging  away  the  meat.  He  ate  as 
she  had  done,  and,  at  last,  partly  gorged  and 
content,  allowed  her  to  take  her  place  at  the 
fire  and  again  eat  to  his  serving.  He  had 
shown  what,  from  the  standard  of  the  time, 
must  be  counted  as  most  gallant  and  generous 
and  courteous  demeanor.  He  had  thought  a 
little  of  the  woman. 

A  tiny  rill  of  cold  water  trickled  down  on 
one  side  of  the  outer  door  of  their  cave.  With 
this  their  thirst  was  slaked,  and  they  ate  and 
ate.  The  shadows  lengthened  and  Ab  re 
plenished  again  and  again  the  fire.  From  the 
semicircle  of  forest  all  about  came  the  sound 
of  footsteps  rustling  in  the  leaves.  But  the 
two  people  inside  the  fire  fence,  hungry  no 
longer,  were  content.  Ab  talked  to  his  wife: 

"The  fire  will  keep  the  man-eating  things 
away,"  he  said.  "I  ran  not  long  ago  with 
things  behind  me,  and  I  would  have  been 
eaten  had  I  not  come  upon  a  ring  of  fire  like 
the  one  we  have  made.  I  leaped  it  and  the 


268  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

eaters  could  not  reach  me.  But,  for  the  fire 
I  leaped  there  was  no  wood.  It  came  out  of 
a  crack  in  the  ground.  Some  day  we  will  go 
there  and  I  will  show  you  that  thing  which  is 
so  strange." 

The  woman  listened,  delighted,  but,  at  last, 
there  was  a  nodding  of  the  head.  She  lay 
back  upon  the  grass  a  sleepy  being.  Ab  looked 
at  her  and  thought  deeply.  Where  was  safety? 
As  they  were,  one  of  them  must  be  awake  all 
the  time  to  keep  the  fire  replenished.  Until 
he  could  enter  the  cave  again  he  must  be 
weaponless.  Only  the  fire  could  protect  the 
two.  They  had  heat  and  food  and  nothing  to 
fear  for  the  moment,  but  they  must  fairly  eat 
their  way  into  a  safety  which  would  be  per 
manent! 

He  kept  the  fire  alight  far  into  the  darkness, 
and  then,  piling  the  fuel  high  all  along  the 
line  of  defense,  he  aroused  the  sleeping  woman 
and  told  her  she  must  keep  the  flames  bright 
while  he  slept  in  his  turn.  She  was  just  the 
wife  for  such  an  emergency  as  this,  and  rose 
uncomplainingly  to  do  her  part  of  the  guarding 
work.  From  the  forest  all  about  came  snarl 
ing  sounds  or  threatening  growls,  and  eyes 
blazed  in  the  somber  depths  beneath  the  trees. 


MORE  OF  THE  HONEYMOON  269 

There  were  hungry  things  out  there  and  they 
wanted  to  eat  a  man  and  woman,  but  fire 
they  feared.  The  woman  was  not  afraid. 

After  hours  had  passed  the  man  awoke  and 
took  the  woman's  place  and  she  slept  in  his 
stead.  Morning  came  and  the  sounds  from 
the  forest  died  away  partly,  but  the  man  and 
woman  knew  of  the  fierce  creatures  still  lurk 
ing  there.  They  knew  what  was  before  them. 
They  must  delve  and  eat  their  way  into  the 
cave  as  soon  as  possible. 

Ab  scraped  at  the  bear's  huge  body  with  his 
inefficient  bit  of  flint  and  dug  away  food  in 
abundance,  which  he  heaped  up  in  a  little 
red  mound  inside  the  fire,  but  the  bear  was  a 
monstrous  beast  and  it  was  a  long  way  from 
tail  to  head.  The  days  of  the  honeymoon 
passed  with  a  degree  of  travail,  for  there  was 
no  moment  when  one  of  the  two  must  not  be 
awake  feeding  the  guarding  fire  or  digging  at 
the  bear.  They  ate  still  heartily  on  the  second 
day  but  it  is  simple,  truthful  history  to  admit 
that  on  the  sixth  day  bear's  meat  palled  some 
what  on  the  happy  couple.  To  have  eaten 
thirty  quails  in  thirty  days  or,  at  a  pinch, 
thirty  quails  in  two  days  would  have  been 
nothing  to  either  of  them,  but  bear's  meat 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

eaten  as  part  of  what  might  be  called  a  tun 
neling  exploit  ceased,  finally,  to  possess  an 
attractive  flavor.  There  was  a  degree  of 
shade  cast  by  all  these  obtrusive  circum 
stances  across  this  honeymoon,  but  there  came 
a  day  and  hour  when  the  bear  was  largely 
eaten,  and  fairly  dug  away  as  to  much  of  the 
rest  of  him,  and  then,  quite  suddenly,  his  head 
and  fore-quarters  toppled  forward  into  the 
cave,  leaving  the  passage  free,  and  when  Ab 
and  Lightfoot  followed,  one  shouting  and  the 
other  laughing,  one  coming  again  to  his  fort 
ress  and  his  weapons  and  his  power,  and  the 
other  to  her  hearth  and  duties. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE    FIRE    COUNTRY    AGAIN. 

THE  sun  rose  brightly  the  next  morning  and 
when  Ab,  armed  and  watchful,  rolled  the  big 
stone  away  and  passed  the  smoldering  fire 
and  issued  from  the  cave  into  the  open,  the 
scene  he  looked  upon  was  fair  in  every  way. 
Of  what  had  been  left  of  the  great  bear  not  a 
trace  remained.  Even  the  bones  had  been 
dragged  into  the  forest  by  the  ravening  crea 
tures  who  had  fed  there  during  the  night .  There 
were  birds  singing  and  there  were  no  enemies 
in  sight.  Ab  called  to  Lightfoot  and  the  two 
went  forth  together,  loving  and  brave,  but  no 
longer  careless  in  that  too  interesting  region. 

And  so  began  the  home  life  of  these  two 
people.  It  was,  in  its  way  and  relatively,  as 
sweet  and  delicious  as  the  first  home  life  of 
any  loving  and  appreciating  man  and  woman 
of  to-day.  The  two  were  very  close,  as  the 
conditions  under  which  they  lived  demanded. 
They  were  the  only  human  beings  within  a 
radius  of  miles.  The  family  of  the  cave  man 
271 


272  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

of  the  time  was  serenely  independent,  each 
having  its  own  territory,  and  depending  upon 
itself  for  its  existence.  And  the  two  troubled 
themselves  about  nothing.  Who  better  than 
they  could  daily  win  the  means  of  animal 
subsistence? 

Ab  taught  Lightfoot  the  art  of  cracking 
away  the  flakes  of  the  flint  nodules  and  of  the 
finer  chipping  and  rasping  which  made  perfect 
the  spear  and  arrowheads,  and  never  was 
pupil  swifter  in  the  learning.  He  taught  her, 
too,  the  use  of  his  new  weapon,  and  in  all  his 
life  he  did  no  wiser  thing!  It  was  not  long 
before  she  became  easily  his  superior  with  the 
bow,  so  far  as  her  strength  would  allow,  and 
her  strength  was  far  from  insignificant.  Her 
arrows  flew  with  greater  accuracy  than  his, 
though  the  buzzing  shaft  had  not  as  yet,  and 
did  not  have  for  many  centuries  later,  the 
1  'gray  goose"  feather  which  made  the  doing 
of  its  mission  far  more  certain.  Lightfoot 
brought  to  the  cave  the  capercailzie  and  willow 
grouse  and  other  birds  which  were  good  things 
for  the  larder,  and  Ab  looked  on  admiringly. 
Even  in  their  joint  hunting,  when  there  was  a 
half  rivalry,  he  was  happy  in  her.  Somehow, 


THE  FIRE  COUNTRY  AGAIN  273 

the  arrow  sang  more  merrily  when  it  flew  from 
Lightfoot's  bow. 

Better  than  Ab,  too,  could  the  young  wife 
do  rare  climbing  when  in  a  nest  far  out  upon 
some  branch  were  eggs  good  for  roasting  and 
which  could  be  reached  only  by  a  light-weight. 
And  she  learned  the  woods  about  them  well, 
and,  though  ever  dreading  when  alone,  found 
where  were  the  trees  from  which  fell  the  great 
est  store  of  nuts  and  where,  in  the  mud  along 
the  river's  side,  her  long  and  highly  educated 
toes  could  reach  the  clams  which  were  excel 
lent  to  feed  upon. 

But  never  did  the  hunter  leave  the  cave 
without  a  fear.  Ever,  even  in  the  daytime, 
was  there  too  much  rustling  among  the  leaves 
of  the  near  forest.  Ever  when  day  had  gone 
was  there  the  sound  of  padded  feet  on  the 
sward  about  the  cave's  blocked  entrance. 
Ever,  at  night,  looking  out  through  the  narrow 
space  between  the  heaped  rocks,  could  the 
two  inside  the  cave  see  fierce  and  blazing  eyes 
and  there  would  come  to  them  the  sound  of 
snarls  and  growls  as  the  beasts  of  different 
quality  met  one  another.  Yet  the  two  cared 
little  for  these  fearful  surroundings  of  the 
darkness.  They  were  safe  enough.  In  the 


274  THE  STORY  OF  AB^ 

morning  there  were  no  signs  of  the  lurking 
beasts  of  prey.  They  were  somewhere  near, 
though,  and  waiting,  and  so  Ab  and  Lightfoot 
had  the  strain  of  constant  watchfulness  upon 
them. 

It  may  be  that  because  of  this  ever  present 
peril  the  two  grew  closer  together.  It  could 
not  well  be  otherwise  with  human  beings  thus 
bound  and  isolated  and  facing  and  living  upon 
the  rest  of  nature,  part  of  it  seeking  always 
their  own  lives.  They  became  a  wonderfully 
loving  couple,  as  love  went  in  that  rude  time. 
Despite  the  too  wearing  outlook  imposed  upon 
them,  because  they  were  in  so  dangerous  a 
locality,  they  were  very  happy.  Yet,  one  day, 
came  a  difference  and  a  hurt. 

Oak,  apparently  forgotten  by  others,  was 
remembered  by  Ab,  though  never  spoken  of. 
Sometimes  the  man  had  tossed  upon  his  bed 
of  leaves  and  had  muttered  in  his  sleep,  and 
the  one  word  he  had  most  often  spoken  in  this 
troubled  dreaming  was  the  name  of  Oak. 
Early  in  their  married  life  Lightfoot,  to  whom 
the  memory  of  the  dead  man,  so  little  had  she 
known  him,  was  a  far  less  haunting  thing  than 
to  her  husband,  had  suddenly  broken  a  silence, 
saying  '  'Where  is  Oak?"  There  was  no  answer, 


THE  FIRE  COUNTRY  AGAIN  275 

but  the  look  of  the  man  of  whom  she  had 
asked  the  question  was  such  that  she  was 
glad  to  creep  from  his  sight  unharmed.  Yet 
once  again,  months  later,  she  forgot  herself 
and  mocked  Ab  when  he  had  been  boastful 
over  some  exploit  of  strength  and  courage  and 
when  he  had  seemed  to  say  that  he  knew  no 
fear.  She,  but  to  tease  him,  sprang  up  with 
a  face  convulsed  and  agonized,  and  with  star 
ing  eyes  and  hands  opening  and  shutting,  had 
cried  out  "Oak!  Oak!"  as  she  had  seen  Ab  do 
at  night.  Her  mimic  terror  was  changed  on 
the  moment  into  reality.  With  a  shudder  and 
then  with  a  glare  in  his  eyes  the  man  leaped 
toward  her,  snatching  his  great  ax  from  his 
belt  and  swinging  it  above  her  head.  The 
woman  shrieked  and  shrank  to  the  ground. 
The  man  whirled  the  weapon  aloft  and  then, 
his  face  twitching  convulsively,  checked  its 
descent.  He  may,  in  that  moment,  have 
thought  of  what  followed  the  slaying  of  the 
other  who  had  been  close  to  him.  There  was 
no  death  done,  but,  thenceforth,  Lightfoot 
never  uttered  aloud  the  name  of  Oak.  She 
became  more  sedate  and  grave  of  bearing. 

The  episode  was  but  a  passing,  though  not 
a  forgotten  one  in  the  lives  of  the  two.     The 


276  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

months  went  by  and  there  were  tranquil  hours 
in  the  cave  as,  at  night,  the  weapons  were 
shaped,  and  Lightfoot  boasted  of  the  arrow 
heads  she  had  learned  to  make  so  well.  Some 
times  Old  Mok  would  be  rowed  up  the  river 
to  them  by  the  sturdy  and  venturesome  Bark, 
who  had  grown  into  a  particularly  fine  youth 
and  who  now  cared  for  nothing  more  than  his 
big  brother's  admiration.  Between  Old  Mok 
and  Lightfoot,  to  Ab's  great  delight,  grew  up 
the  warmest  friendship.  The  old  man  taught 
the  woman  more  of  the  details  of  good  arrow- 
making  and  all  he  knew  of  woodcraft  in  all 
ways,  and  the  lord  of  the  place  soon  found  his 
wife  giving  opinions  with  an  air  of  the  utmost 
knowledge  and  authority.  Whatever  came 
to  him  from  her  and  Old  Mok  pleased  him, 
and  when  she  told  him  of  some  of  the  finer 
points  of  arrow-making  he  stretched  out  his 
brawny  arms  and  laughed. 

But  there  came,  in  time,  a  shade  upon  the 
face  of  the  man.  The  incident  of  the  talk  of 
Oak  may  have  brought  to  his  mind  again  more 
freshly  and  keenly  the  memory  of  the  Fire 
Country.  There  he  had  found  safety  and  great 
comfort.  Why  should  not  he  and  Lightfoot 
seize  upon  this  home  and  live  there?  It  was 


THE  FIRE  COUNTRY  AGAIN 

a  wonderful  place  and  warm,  and  there  were 
forests  at  hand.  He  became  so  absorbed  in 
his  own  thoughts  on  this  great  theme  that  the 
woman  who  was  his  could  not  understand  his 
mood,  but,  one  day,  he  told  her  of  what  he 
had  been  thinking  and  of  what  he  had  resolved 
upon.  "I  am  going  to  the  Fire  Country,"  he 
said. 

Armed,  this  time  with  spear  and  ax  and  bow 
and  arrow,  and  with  food  abundant  in  the 
pouch  of  his  skin  garb,  Ab  left  the  cave  in 
which  Lightfoot  was  now  to  stay  most  of  the 
time,  well  barricaded,  for  that  she  was  to  hunt 
afar  alone  in  such  a  region  was  not  even  to  be 
thought  of.  What  thoughts  came  to  the  man 
as  he  traversed  again  the  forest  paths  where 
he  had  so  pondered  as  he  once  ran  before  can 
be  but  guessed  at.  Certainly  he  had  learned 
no  more  of  Oak. 

Lightfoot,  left  alone  in  the  cave,  became  at 
once  a  most  discreet  and  careful  personage, 
for  one  of  her  buoyant  and  daring  tempera 
ment.  She  had  often  taken  risks  since  her 
marriage,  but  there  was  always  the  chance  of 
finding  within  the  sound  of  her  voice  her 
big  mate,  Ab,  should  danger  overtake  her. 
She  remained  close  to  the  cave,  and  when 


278  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

early  dusk  came  she  lugged  the  stone  barriers 
into  place  and  built  a  night-fire  within  the 
entrance.  The  fierce  and  hungry  beasts  of 
the  wood  came,  as  usual,  lurking  and  sniffing 
harshly  about  the  entrance,  and  when  she 
ventured  there  and  peered  outside  she  saw  the 
wicked  and  leering  eyes.  Alone  and  a  little 
alarmed,  she  became  more  vengeful  than  she 
would  have  been  with  the  big,  careless  Ab 
beside  her.  She  would  have  sport  with  her 
bow.  The  advantage  of  the  bow  is  that  it 
requires  no  swing  of  space  for  its  work  as  is 
demanded  of  the  flung  spear.  An  arrow  may 
be  sent  through  a  mere  loophole  with  no  prob 
able  demerit  as  to  what  it  will  accomplish. 
So  the  woman  brought  her  strongest  bow — 
and  far  beyond  the  rough  bow  of  Ab's  first 
make  was  the  bow  they  now  possessed — and 
gathered  together  many  of  the  arrows  she 
could  make  so  well  and  use  so  well,  and,  thus 
equipped,  went  again  to  the  cave's  entrance, 
and  through  the  space  between  the  heaped 
rocks  of  the  doorway  sent  toward  the  eyes  of 
wolf,  or  cave  hyena,  shafts  to  which  they  were 
unaccustomed,  but  which,  somehow,  pierced 
and  could  find  mid-body  quite  as  well  as  the 
cave  man's  spear.  There  was  a  certain  com- 


THE  FIRE  COUNTRY  AGAIN  279 

fort  in  the  work,  though  it  could  not  affect  her 
condition  in  one  way  or  another.  It  was  only 
something  of  a  gain  to  drive  the-  eyes  away. 

And  Ab  reached  the  Fire  Valley  again.  He 
found  it  as  comfortable  and  untenanted  as 
when  the  leap  through  the  ring  of  flame  had 
saved  his  life.  He  clambered  up  the  creek 
and  wandered  along  its  banks,  where  the  grass 
was  green  because  of  the  warmth  about,  and 
studied  all  the  qualities  of  the  naturally  de 
fended  valley.  "  I  will  make  my  home  hei'e," 
he  said.  *  *  Lightfoot  shall  come  with  me. " 

The  man  returned  to  his  cave  and  his  lonely 
mate  again  and  told  her  of  the  Fire  Country. 
He  said  that  in  the  Fire  Valley  they  would  be 
safer  and  happier,  and  told  her  how  he  had 
found  an  opening  underneath  the  cliff  which 
they  could  soon  enlarge  into  a  cave  to  meet 
all  wants.  Not  that  a  cave  was  really  needed 
in  a  fire  valley,  but  they  might  have  one  if 
they  cared.  And  Lightfoot  was  glad  of  the 
departure. 

The  pair  gathered  their  belongings  together 
and  there  was  the  long  journey  over  again 
which  Ab  had  just  accomplished.  But  it  was 
far  different  from  either  journey  that  he  had 
made.  There  with  him  was  his  wife,  and  he 


280  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

was  all  equipped  and  was  to  begin  a  new  sort 
of  life  which  would,  he  felt,  be  good.  Light- 
foot,  bearing  her  load  gallantly,  was  not  less 
jubilant.  As  a  matter  of  plain  fact,  though 
Lightfoot  had  been  happy  in  the  cave  in  the 
forest,  she  had  always  recognized  certain  of  its 
disadvantages,  as  had,  in  the  end,  her  fearless 
husband.  It  is,  in  a  general  way,  vexatious 
to  live  in  a  locality  where,  as  soon  as  you 
leave  your  hearthstone,  you  incur,  at  least,  a 
chance  of  an  exciting  and  uncomfortable  epi 
sode  and  then  lodgment  in  the  maw  of  some 
imposing  creature  of  the  carnivora.  Light- 
foot  was  quite  ready  to  seek  with  Ab  the  Fire 
Valley  of  which  he  had  so  often  told  her. 
She  was  a  plucky  young  matron,  but  there 
were  extremes. 

There  were  no  adventures  on  the  journey 
worth  relating.  The  Fire  Valley  was  reached 
at  nightfall  and  the  two  struggled  weariedly 
up  the  rugged  path  beside  the  creek  which 
issued  from  the  valley's  western  end.  As 
they  reached  the  level  Ab  threw  down  his 
burden,  as  did  Lightfoot,  and  as  the  woman's 
eyes  roved  over  the  bright  scene,  she  gave  a 
great  gasp  of  delight.  "It  is  our  home!"  she 
cried. 


THE  FIRE  COUNTRY  AGAIN  281 

They  ate  and  slept  in  the  light  and  warmth 
t>f  surrounding  flames,  and  when  the  day  came 
they  began  the  work  of  enlarging  what  was  to 
be  their  cave.  But,  though  they  worked  ear 
nestly,  they  did  not  care  so  much  for  the  pros 
pective  shelter  as  they  might  have  done. 
What  a  cave  had  given  was  warmth  and  safety. 
Here  they  had  both,  out  of  doors  and  under 
the  clear  sky.  It  was  a  new  and  glorious  life. 
Sometimes,  though  happy,  the  woman  worked 
u  little  wearily,  and,  not  long  after  the  settle 
ment  of  the  two  in  their  new  home,  a  child 
#as  born  to  them,  a  son,  robust  and  sturdy, 
who  came  afterward  to  be  known  as  Little 
Mok, 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A   GREAT   STEP    FORWARD. 

THERE  came  to  Ab  and  Lightfoot  that  com 
fort  which  comes  with  laboring  for  something 
desired.  In  all  that  the  two  did  amid  their 
pleasant  surroundings  life  became  a  greater 
thing  because  its  dangers  were  so  lessened  and 
its  burdens  lightened.  But  they  were  not 
long  the  sole  human  beings  in  the  Fire  Valley. 
There  was  room  for  many  and  soon  Old  Mok 
took  up  his  permanent  abode  with  them,  for 
he  was  most  contented  when  with  Ab,  who 
seemed  so  like  a  son  to  him.  A  cave  of  his 
own  was  dug  for  Mok,  where,  with  his  carving 
and  his  making  of  arrows  and  spearheads,  he 
was  happy  in  his  old  age.  Soon  followed  a 
hegira  which  made,  for  the  first  time,  a  com 
munity.  The  whole  family  of  Ab,  One-Ear, 
Red-Spot  and  Bark  and  Beechleaf  and  the 
later  ones,  all  came,  and  another  cave  was 
made,  and  then  old  Hilltop  was  persuaded  to 
follow  the  example  and  come  with  Moonface 
and  Branch  and  Stone  Arm,  his  big  sons,  and 
282 


A  GREAT  STEP  FORWARD  283 

the  group,  thus  established  and  naturally  pro 
tected,  feared  nothing  which  might  happen. 
The  effect  of  daily  counsel  together  soon  made 
itself  distinctly  felt,  and,  under  circumstances 
so  different,  many  of  the  old  ways  were  de 
parted  from.  Half  a  mile  to  the  south  the 
creek,  which  made  a  bend  adown  its  course, 
tumbled  into  the  river  and  upon  the  river 
were  wild  fowl  in  abundance  and  in  its  depths 
were  fish.  The  forest  abounded  in  game  and 
there  were  great  nut-bearing  trees  and  the 
wild  fruits  in  their  season.  Wild  bees  hovered 
over  the  flowers  in  the  open  places  and  there 
were  hoards  of  wild  honey  to  be  found  in  the 
hollows  of  deadened  trunks  or  in  the  high  rock 
crevices.  A  great  honey-gatherer,  by  the  way, 
was  Lightfoot,  who  could  climb  so  well,  and 
who,  furthermore,  had  her  own  fancy  for  sweet 
things.  It  was  either  Bark  or  Moonface  who 
usually  accompanied  her  on  her  expeditions, 
and  they  brought  back  great  store  of  this  at 
tractive  spoil.  The  years  passed  and  the 
community  grew,  not  merely  in  numbers,  but 
intelligence.  Though  always  an  adviser  with 
Old  Mok,  Ab's  chief  male  companion  in  ad 
venture  was  the  stanch  Hilltop,  who  was  a 
man  worth  hunting  with.  Having  two  such 


284  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

men  to  lead  and  with  a  force  so  strong  behind 
them  the  valley  people  were  able  to  cope  with 
the  more  dangerous  animals  venturesomely, 
and  soon  the  number  of  these  was  so  decreased 
that  even  the  children  might  venture  a  little 
way  beyond  the  steep  barriers  which  had  been 
raised  where  the  flame  circle  had  its  gaps. 
The  opening  to  the  north  was  closed  by  a  high 
stone  wall  and  that  along  the  creek  defended 
as  effectively,  in  a  different  way.  They  were 
having  good  times  in  the  valley. 

At  first,  the  home  of  all  was  in  the  caves 
dug  in  the  soft  rock  of  the  ledge,  for  of  those 
who  came  to  the  novel  refuge  there  was,  for  a 
season,  none  who  could  sleep  in  the  bright 
light  from  the  never-waning  flames.  There 
came  a  time,  though,  when,  in  midsummer, 
Ab  grumbled  at  the  heat  within  his  cave  and 
he  and  Lightfoot  built  for  themselves  an  out 
side  refuge,  made  of  a  bark-covered  "lean-to" 
of  long  branches  propped  against  the  rock, 
Thus  was  the  first  house  made.  The  habita 
tion  proved  so  comfortable  that  others  in  the 
valley  imitated  it  and  soon  there  was  a  hive  of 
similar  huts  along  the  foot  of  the  overhanging 
precipice.  When  the  short,  sharp  winter 
came,  all  did  not  seek  their  caves  again,  bat 


A  GREAT  STEP  FORWARD  285 

the  huts  were  made  warmer  by  the  addition  to 
their  walls  of  bark  and  skins,  and  cave  dwelling 
in  the  valley  was  finally  abandoned.  There 
was  one  exception.  Old  Mok  would  not  leave 
his  warm  retreat,  and,  as  long  as  he  lived,  his 
rock  burrow  was  his  home. 

There  came  also,  as  recruits,  young  men, 
friends  of  the  young  men  of  the  valley,  and 
the  band  waxed  and  waned,  for  nothing  could 
at  once  change  the  roving  and  independent 
habits  of  the  cave  men.  But  there  came 
children  to  the  mothers,  the  broad  Moonface 
being  especially  to  the  fore  in  this  regard,  and 
a  fine  group  of  youngsters  played  and  straggled 
up  and  down  the  creek  and  fought  valiantly 
together,  as  cave  children  should.  The  heads 
of  families  were  friendly,  though  independent. 
Usually  they  lived  each  without  any  reference 
to  anyone  else,  but  when  a  great  hunt  was  on, 
or  any  emergency  called,  the  band  came  to 
gether  and  fought,  for  the  time,  under  Ab's 
tacitly  admitted  leadership.  And  the  young 
men  brought  wives  from  the  country  round. 

The  area  of  improvement  widened.  Around 
the  Fire  Village  the  zone  of  safety  spread. 
The  roar  of  the  great  cave  tiger  was  less  often 
heard  within  miles  of  the  flaming  torches  of  the 


286  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

valley  so  inhabited.  There  grew  into  existence 
something  almost  like  a  system  of  traffic,  for, 
from  distant  parts,  hitherto  unknown,  came 
other  cave  men,  bringing  skins,  or  flints,  or 
tusks  for  carving,  which  they  were  eager  to 
exchange  for  the  new  weapon  and  for  instruc 
tion  in  its  uses.  Ab  was  the  first  chieftain, 
the  first  to  draw  about  him  a  clan  of  followers. 
The  cave  men  were  taking  their  first  lesson  in 
a  slight,  half  unconfessed  obedience,  that  first 
essential  of  community  life  where  there  is  yet 
no  law,  not  even  the  unwritten  law  of  custom. 

Running  in  and  out  among  the  children, 
sometimes  pummeled  by  them,  were  a  score 
or  two  of  gray,  four-footed,  bone-awaiting 
creatures,  who,  though  as  yet  uncounted  in 
such  relation,  were  destined  to  furnish  a  factor 
in  man's  advancement.  They  were  wolves 
and  yet  no  longer  wolves.  They  had  learned 
to  cling  to  man,  but  were  not  yet  intelligent 
enough  or  taught  enough  to  aid  him  in  his 
hunting.  They  were  the  dogs  of  the  future, 
the  four-footed  things  destined  to  become  the 
closest  friends  of  men  of  future  ages,  the  de 
scendants  of  the  four  cubs  Ab  and  Oak  had 
taken  from  the  dens  so  many  years  before. 

It  was  humanizing  for  the  children,  this  as- 


A  GREAT  STEP  FORWARD  287 

sociation  of  such  a  number  together,  though 
they  ran  only  a  little  less  wildly  than  those 
who  had  heretofore  been  born  in  the  isolated 
caves.  There  came  more  of  an  average  of  in 
telligence  among  them,  thus  associated,  though 
but  little  more  attention  was  paid  them  than 
the  cave  men  had  afforded  offspring  in  the  past. 
There  had  come  to  Ab  after  Little  Mok  two 
strong  sons,  Reindeer  and  Sure-Aim,  very  much 
like  him  in  his  youth,  but  of  them,  until  they 
reached  the  age  of  help  and  hunting,  he  saw 
little.  Lightfoot  regarded  them  far  more 
closely,  for,  despite  the  many  duties  which  had 
come  upon  her,  there  never  disappeared  the 
mother's  tenderness  and  watchfulness.  And 
so  it  was  with  Moonface,  whose  brood  was  so 
great,  and  who  was  like  a  noisy  hen  with 
chickens.  So  existed  the  hovering  mother 
instinct  with  all  the  women  of  the  valley, 
though  then  the  mothers  fished  and  hunted 
and  had  stirring  events  to  distract  them  from 
domesticity  and  close  affection  almost  as  much 
as  had  the  men. 

From  this  oddly  formed  community  came  a 
difference  in  certain  ways  of  doing  certain 
things,  which  changed  man's  status,  which 
made  a  revolution  second  only  to  that  made 


288  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

by  the  bow  and  for  which  even  men  of  thought 
have  not  accounted  as  they  should  have  done, 
with  the  illustration  before  them  in  our  own 
times  of  what  has  followed  so  swiftly  the  use 
of  steam  and,  later,  of  electricity.  Men  write 
of  and  wonder  at  the  strange  gap  between 
what  are  called  the  Paleolithic  and  the  Neo 
lithic  ages,  that  is,  between  the  ages  when  the 
spearheads  and  ax  and  arrowheads  were  of 
stone  chipped  roughly  into  shape,  and  the  age 
of  stone  even-edged  and  smoothly  polished. 
There  was  really  no  gap  worth  speaking  of. 
The  Paleolithic  age  changed  as  suddenly  into 
the  Neolithic  as  the  age  of  horse  power  changed 
into  that  of  steam  and  electricity,  allowance 
being  always  made  for  the  slower  transmission 
of  a  new  intelligence  in  the  days  when  men 
lived  alone  and  when  a  hundred  years  in  the 
diffusion  of  knowledge  was  as  a  year  to-day. 

One  day  Ab  went  into  Old  Mok's  cave 
grumbling.  "I  shot  an  arrow  into  a  great 
deer,"  he  said,  "and  I  was  close  and  shot  it 
with  all  my  force,  but  the  beast  ran  before  it 
fell  and  we  had  far  to  carry  the  meat.  I  tore 
the  arrow  from  him  and  the  blood  upon  the 
shaft  showed  that  it  had  not  gone  half  way  in. 
I  looked  at  the  arrow  and  there  was  a  jagged 


A  GREAT  STEP  FORWARD  289 

point  uprising  from  its  side.  How  can  a  man 
drive  deeply  an  arrow  which  is  so  rough?  Are 
you  getting  too  old  to  make  good  spears  and 
arrows,  Mok?"  And  the  man  fumed  a  little. 
Old  Mok  made  no  reply,  but  he  thought  long 
and  deeply  after  Ab  had  left  the  cave.  Cer 
tainly  Ab  must  have  good  arrows!  Was  there 
any  way  of  bettering  them?  And,  the  next 
day,  the  crippled  old  man  might  have  been 
seen  looking  for  something  beside  the  creek 
where  it  found  its  exit  from  the  valley.  There 
were  stones  ground  into  smoothness  tossed  up 
along  the  shore  and  the  old  man  studied  them 
most  carefully.  Many  times  he  had  bent  over 
a  stream,  watching,  thinking,  but  this  time  he 
acted.  He  noted  a  small  sandstone  block 
against  which  were  rasping  stones  of  harder 
texture,  and  he  picked  this  from  the  tumbling 
current  and  carried  it  to  his  cave.  Then,  pour 
ing  a  little  water  upon  a  depression  in  the 
stone's  face,  he  selected  his  best  big  arrow 
head  and  began  rubbing  it  upon  the  wet  sand 
stone.  It  was  a  weary  work,  for  flint  and 
sandstone  are  different  things  and  flint  is  much 
the  harder,  but  there  came  a  slow  result. 
Smoother  and  smoother  became  the  chipped  ar 
rowhead,  and  two  days  later — for  all  the  waking 
19 


290  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

hours  of  two  days  were  required  in  the  weary 
grinding — Old  Mok  gave  to  Ab  an  arrow  as 
smooth  of  surface  and  keen  of  edge  as  ever 
flew  from  bow  while  stone  was  used.  And 
not  many  years  passed — as  years  are  counted 
in  old  history — before  the  smoothed  stone 
weaponhead  became  the  common  property  of 
cave  men.  The  time  of  chipped  stone  had 
ended  and  that  of  smoothed  stone  had  begun. 
There  was  no  space  between  them  to  be 
counted  now.  One  swiftly  became  the  other. 
It  was  a  matter  of  necessity,  this  exhibition  of 
enterprise  and  sense  by  the  early  man  in  the 
prompt  general  utilization  of  a  new  discovery. 
And  not  alone  in  the  improvements  in  means 
which  came  when  men  of  the  hunting  type 
were  so  gathered  in  a  community  were  the 
bow  and  the  smoothed  implements,  though 
these  were  the  greatest  of  the  discoveries  of 
the  epoch.  The  fishermen  who  went  to  the 
river  were  not  content  with  the  raft-like  de 
vices  of  the  aquatic  Shell  People  and  learned, 
in  time,  that  hollowed  logs  would  float  and 
that,  with  the  aid  of  fire  and  flint  axes,  a  great 
log  could  be  hollowed.  And  never  a  Phoeni 
cian  ship-builder,  never  a  Fulton  of  the 
steamer,  never  a  modern  designer  of  great 


A  GREAT  STEP  FORWARD  291 

yachts,  stood  higher  in  the  estimation  of  his 
jellows  than  stood  the  expert  in  the  making 
of  the  rude  boats,  as  uncouth  in  appearance 
as  the  river-horse  which  sometimes  upset 
them,  but  from  which  men  could,  at  least,  let 
down  their  lines  or  dart  their  spears  to  secure 
the  fish  in  the  teeming  waters.  And  the  fisher 
men  had  better  spears  and  hooks  now,  for 
comparison  was  necessarily  always  made 
among  devices,  and  bone  barbs  and  hooks 
were  whittled  out  from  which  the  fish  no  lon 
ger  often  floundered.  There  came,  in  time, 
the  making  of  rude  nets,  plaited  simply  from 
the  tough  marsh  grasses,  but  they  served  the 
purpose  and  lessened  somewhat  the  gravity 
of  the  great  food  question. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

FACING   THE    RAIDER. 

ONE  day,  at  noon,  a  man  burst,  panting, 
through  the  wide  open  entrance  to  the  Fire 
Valley.  His  coat  of  skin  was  rent  and  hung 
awry  and,  as  all  could  see  when  he  staggered 
down  the  pathway,  the  flesh  was  torn  from 
one  cheek  and  arm,  and  down  his  leg  on  one 
side  was  the  stain  of  dried  blood.  He  was 
exhausted  from  his  hurt  and  his  run  and  his 
talk  was,  at  first,  almost  unmeaning.  He  was 
met  by  some  of  the  older  and  wiser  among 
those  who  saw  him  coming  and  to  their  ques 
tions  answered  only  by  demanding  Ab,  who 
came  at  once.  The  hard-breathing  and 
wounded  man  could  only  utter  the  words 
"Big  tiger,"  when  he  pitched  forward  and 
became  unconscious.  But  his  words  had  been 
enough.  Well  understood  was  it  by  all  who 
listened  what  a  raid  of  the  cave  tiger  meant, 
and  there  was  a  running  to  the  gateway  and 
soon  was  raised  the  wall  of  ready  stone,  up 
built  so  high  that  even  the  leaping  monster 
292 


FACING  THE  RAIDER  293 

could  not  hope  to  reach  its  summit.  Later 
the  story  of  the  wounded,  but  now  conscious 
and  refreshed  runner,  was  told  with  more  of 
detail  and  coherence. 

The  messenger  brought  out  what  he  had  to 
tell  gaspingly.  He  had  lost  much  blood  and 
was  faint,  but  he  told  how  there  had  taken 
place  something  awful  in  the  village  of  the 
Shell  Men.  It  was  but  little  after  dusk  the 
night  before  when  the  Shell  Men  were  gathered 
together  in  merrymaking  after  good  fishing 
and  lucky  gathering  of  what  there  was  to  eat 
along  the  shores  of  the  shell  fish  and  the  egg- 
laying  turtles  and  the  capture  of  a  huge  river- 
horse.  It  had  been,  up  to  midnight,  one  of 
the  greatest  and  most  joyous  meetings  the 
Shell  People  had  joined  in  for  many  years. 
They  were  close-gathered  and  prosperous  and 
content,  and  though  there  was  daily  turmoil 
and  risk  of  death  upon  the  water  and  some 
times  as  great  risk  upon  the  land,  yet  the  vil 
lage  fringing  the  waters  had  grown,  and  the 
midden  — the  '  'kitchen-midden"  of  future  ages 
—had  raised  itself  steadily  and  now  stretched 
far  up  and  down  the  creek  which  was  a 
river  branch  and  far  backward  from  the  creek 
toward  the  forest  which  ended  with  the  up- 


294  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

lands.  They  had  learned  to  dread  the  forest 
little,  the  water  people,  but  from  the  forest 
now  came  what  made  for  each  in  all  the  vil 
lage  a  dread  and  horror.  The  cave  tiger  had 
been  among  them! 

The  Shell  People  had  gathered  together 
upon  the  sward  fronting  their  line  of  shallow 
caves  and  one  of  them,  the  story-teller  and 
singer,  was  chanting  aloud  of  the  river-horse 
and  the  great  spoil  which  was  theirs,  when 
there  was  a  hungry  roar  and  the  yell  or  shriek 
of  all,  men  or  women  not  too  stricken  by  fear 
to  be  unable  to  utter  sound,  and  then  the  leap 
into  their  midst  of  the  cave  tiger!  Perhaps  the 
story-teller's  chant  had  called  the  monster's 
attention  to  him,  perhaps  his  attitude  attracted 
it;  whatever  may  have  been  the  influence,  the 
tiger  seized  the  singer  and  leaped  lightly  into 
the  open  beyond  the  caves  and,  as  lightly, 
with  long  bounds,  into  the  blackness  of  the 
forest  beyond. 

There  was  a  moment  of  awe  and  horror  and 
then  the  spirit  of  the  brave  Shell  Men  asserted 
itself.  There  was  grasping  of  weapons  and  an 
outpouring  in  pursuit  of  the  devourer.  Easy 
to  follow  was  the  trail,  for  a  monster  beast 
carrying  a  man  cannot  drop  lightly  in  his  leaps. 


FACING  THE  RAIDER  295 

There  was  a  brief  mile  or  two  traversed,  though 
hours  were  consumed  in  the  search,  and  then, 
as  morn  was  breaking,  the  seekers  came  upon 
what  was  left  of  the  singer.  It  was  not  much 
and  it  lay  across  the  forest  pathway,  for  the 
cave  tiger  did  not  deign  to  hide  his  prey. 
There  came  a  half  moaning  growl  from 
the  forest.  That  growl  meant  lurking  death. 
Then  the  seekers  fled.  There  was  consultation 
and  a  resolve  to  ask  for  help.  So  the  runner, 
the  man  stricken  down  by  a  casual  stroke  in 
the  tiger's  rush,  but  bravest  among  his  tribe, 
had  come  to  the  Fire  Valley. 

To  the  panting  stranger  Ab  had  not  much  to 
say.  He  saw  to  it  that  the  man  was  refreshed 
and  cared  for  and  that  the  deep  scars  along 
his  side  were  dressed  after  the  cave  man's 
fashion.  But  through  the  night  which  fol 
lowed  the  great  cave  leader  pondered  deeply. 
Why  should  men  thus  live  and  dread  the  cave 
tiger?  Surely  men  were  wiser  than  any  beast! 
This  one  monster  must,  anyhow,  be  slain! 

But  little  it  mattered  to  all  surrounding  na 
ture  that  the  strong  man  in  the  Fire  Valley 
had  resolved  upon  the  death  of  the  cave  tiger. 
The  tiger  was  yet  alive!  There  was  a  differ 
ence  in  the  pulse  of  all  the  woodland.  There 


296  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

was  a  hush  throughout  the  forest.  The  word, 
somehow,  went  to  every  nerve  of  all  the  world 
of  beasts,  "Sabre-Tooth  is  here!"  Even  the 
huge  cave  bear  shuffled  aside  as  there  came  to 
him  the  scent  of  the  invader.  The  aurochs 
and  the  urus,  the  towering  elk,  the  reindeer 
and  the  lesser  horned  and  antlered  things  fled 
wildly  as  the  tainted  air  brought  to  them  the 
tale  of  impending  murder.  Only  the  huge 
rhinoceros  and  mammoth  stood  their  ground, 
and  even  these  were  terror-stricken  with  re 
gard  for  their  guarded  young  whenever  the 
tiger  neared  them.  The  rhinoceros  stood  then, 
fierce-fronted  and  dangerous,  its  offspring  hov 
ering  by  its  flanks,  and  the  mammoths  gath 
ered  in  a  ring  encircling  their  calves  and  pre 
senting  an  outward  range  of  tusks  to  meet  the 
hovering  devourer.  The  dread  was  all  about. 
The  forest  became  seemingly  nearly  lifeless. 
There  was  less  barking  and  yelping,  less  reck 
less  playfulness  of  wild  creatures,  less  rustling 
of  the  leaves  and  pattering  along  the  forest 
paths.  There  was  fear  and  quiet,  for  Sabre- 
Tooth  had  come! 

The  runner,  refreshed  and  strengthened  by 
food  and  sleep,  appeared  before  Ab  in  the 
morning  and  told  his  story  more  in  detail  and 


FACING  THE  RAIDER  297 

got  in  return  the  short  answer:  "We  will  go 
with  you  and  help  you  and  your  people. 
Tigers  must  be  killed!" 

Rarely  before  had  man  gone  out  voluntarily 
to  hunt  the  great  cave  tiger.  He  had,  some 
times  in  awful  strait,  defended  himself  against 
the  monster  as  best  he  could,  but  to  seek 
the  encounter  where  the  odds  were  so  great 
against  him  was  an  ugly  task.  Now  the  man- 
slayer  was  to  be  the  pursued  instead  of  the 
pursuer.  It  required  courage.  The  vengeful 
wounded  man  looked  upon  Ab  with  a  grim, 
admiring  regard.  «You  fear  not?"  he  said. 

There  was  bustling  in  the  valley  and  soon  a 
stalwart  dozen  men  were  armed  with  bow  and 
spear  and  the  journey  was  taken  up  toward 
the  Shell  Men's  home.  The  village  was 
reached  at  mid-day  and  as  the  little  troop 
emerged  from  the  forest  the  death  wail  fell 
upon  their  ears.  "The  tiger  has  come  again!" 
exclaimed  the  runner. 

It  was  true.  The  tiger  had  come  again! 
Once  more  with  his  stunning  roar  he  had  swept 
through  the  village  and  had  taken  another 
victim,  a  woman,  the  wife  of  one  of  the  head 
men.  Too  benumbed  by  fear,  this  time,  to 
act  at  once,  the  Shell  Men  had  not  pursued 


298  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

the  great  brute  into  the  darkness.  They  had 
but  ventured  out  in  the  morning  and  followed 
the  trail  and  found  that  the  tiger  had  carried 
the  woman  in  very  nearly  the  same  direction 
as  he  had  borne  the  man  and  that  what  re 
mained  from  his  gorging  of  the  night  lay 
where  his  earlier  feast  had  been.  It  was  the 
first  tragedy  almost  repeated. 

The  little  group  of  Fire  Valley  folk  entered 
the  village  and  were  received  with  shouts  from 
the  men,  while  from  the  throats  of  the  women 
still  rose  the  death  wail.  There  were  more 
people  about  the  huts  than  Ab  had  ever  seen 
there  and  he  recognized  at  once  among  the 
group  many  of  the  cave  men  from  the  East, 
strong  people  of  his  own  kind.  As  the  wounded 
runner  had  gone  to  the  Fire  Valley,  so  another 
had  been  sent  to  the  East,  to  call  upon  another 
group  for  aid,  and  the  Eastern  cave  people, 
under  the  leadership  of  a  huge,  swarthy  man 
called  Boarface,  had  come  to  learn  what  the 
strait  was  and  to  decide  upon  what  degree  of 
help  they  could  afford  to  give.  Between  these 
Eastern  and  the  Western  cave  men  there  was 
a  certain  coldness.  There  was  no  open  enmity, 
though  at  some  time  in  the  past  there  had  been 
family  battles  and  memories  of  feuds  were 


FACING  THE  RAIDER  295 

still  existent.  But  Ab  and  Boarface  met 
genially  and  there  was  not  a  trace  of  difference 
now.  Boarface  joined  readily  in  the  council 
which  was  held  and  decided  that  he  would  aid 
in  the  desperate  hunt,  and  certainly  his  aid 
was  not  to  be  despised  when  his  followers  were 
looked  upon.  They  were  a  stalwart  lot. 

The  way  was  taken  by  the  gathered  righting 
men  toward  where,  across  the  forest  path,  lay 
part  of  a  woman.  As  the  place  was  neared 
the  band  gathered  close  together  and  there 
were  outpointing  spears,  just  as  the  mammoths' 
tusks  outpointed  when  the  beasts  guarded 
their  young  from  the  thing  now  hunted.  But 
there  came  no  attack  and  no  sound  from  the 
forest.  The  tiger  must  be  sleeping.  Beneath 
a  huge  tree  bordering  the  pathway  lay  what 
remained  of  the  woman's  body.  Fifty  feet 
above,  and  almost  directly  over  this  dreadful 
remnant  of  humanity,  shot  out  a  branch  as 
thick  as  a  man's  body.  There  was  consulta 
tion  among  the  hunters  and  in  this  Ab  took 
the  lead,  while  Boarface  and  the  Shell  Men 
who  had  come  to  help  assented  readily.  No 
need  existed  for  the  risk  of  an  open  fight  with 
this  great  beast.  Craft  must  be  used  and  Ab 
forth  his  swift  commands. 


300  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

The  Fire  Valley  leader  had  seen  to  it  that 
his  company  had  brought  what  he  needed  in 
his  effort  to  kill  the  tiger.  There  were  two 
great  tanned,  tough  urus  hides.  There  were 
lengths  of  rhinoceros  hide,  cut  thickly,  which 
would  endure  a  strain  of  more  than  the  weight 
of  ten  brawny  men.  There  was  one  spear, 
with  a  shaft  of  ash  wood  at  least  fifteen  feet 
in  length  and  as  thick  as  a  man's  wrist.  Its 
head  was  a  blade  of  hardest  flint,  but  the 
spear  was  too  heavy  for  a  man's  hurling.  It 
had  been  made  for  another  use. 

There  was  little  hesitation  in  what  was 
done,  for  Ab  knew  well  the  quality  of  the 
work  he  had  in  hand.  He  unfolded  his  plan 
briefly  and  then  he  himself  climbed  to  the  tree- 
top  and  out  upon  the  limb,  carrying  with  him 
the  knotted  strip  of  rhinoceros  hide.  In 
the  pouch  of  his  skin  garment  were  pebbles. 
He  reached  a  place  on  the  big  limb  overhang 
ing  the  path  and  dropped  a  pebble.  It  struck 
the  earth  a  yard  or  two  away  from  what 
remained  of  the  woman's  body  and  he  shouted 
to  those  below  to  drag  the  mangled  body  to 
the  spot  where  the  pebble  had  hit  the  earth. 
They  were  about  to  do  so  when  from  the 
forest  on  one  side  of  the  path  came  a  roar,  so 


FACING  THE  RAIDER  3°  I 

appalling  in  every  way  that  there  was  no 
thought  of  anything  among  most  of  the  work 
ers  save  of  sudden  flight.  The  tiger  was  in 
the  wood  and  very  near  and  a  scent  had 
reached  him.  There  was  a  flight  which  left 
upon  the  ground  beneath  the  tree  branches 
only  old  Hilltop  and  the  rough  Boarface  and 
some  dozen  sturdy  followers,  these  about 
equally  divided  between  the  East  and  the 
West  men  of  the  hills.  There  was  swift  and 
sharp  work  then. 

The  tiger  might  come  at  any  moment,  and 
that  meant  death  to  one  at  least.  But  those 
who  remained  were  brave  men  and  they  had 
come  far  to  encompass  this  tiger's  ending. 
They  dragged  what  remained  of  the  tiger's 
prey  to  where  the  pebble  had  hit  the  earth. 
Ab,  clinging  and  raging  aloft,  afar  out  upon 
the  limb,  shouted  to  Hilltop  to  bring  him  the 
spear  and  the  urus  skins,  and  soon  the  sturdy 
old  man  was  beside  him.  Then,  about  two 
deep  notches  in  the  huge  shaft,  thongs  were 
soon  tied  strongly,  and  just  below  its  middle 
were  attached  the  bag-shaped  urus  skins. 
Near  its  end  the  rhinoceros  thong  was  knotted 
and  then  it  was  left  hanging  from  the  limb 
supported  by  this  strong  rope,  while,  three- 


302  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

fourths  of  the  way  down  its  length,  dangled 
on  each  side  the  two  empty  bags  of  hide. 
Short  orders  were  given,  and,  directed  by 
Boarface,  one  man  after  another  climbed  the 
tree,  each  with  a  weight  of  stones  carried  in 
his  pouch,  and  each  delivering  his  load  to  old 
Hilltop,  who,  lying  well  out  upon  the  limb, 
passed  the  stones  to  Ab,  who  placed  them  in 
the  skin  pouches  on  either  side  the  suspended 
and  threatening  spear.  The  big  skin  pouches 
on  either  side  were  filling  rapidly,  when  there 
came  from  the  forest  another  roar,  nearer  and 
more  appalling  than  before,  and  some  of  the 
workers  below  fled  panic-stricken.  Ab  shouted 
and  frothed  and  foamed  as  the  men  ran.  Old 
Hilltop  slid  down  the  tree,  ax  in  hand,  followed 
by  the  dark  Boarface,  and  one  or  two  of  the 
men  below  were  captured  and  made  to  work 
again.  Soon  all  the  work  which  Ab  had  in 
mind  was  done.  Above  the  path,  just  over 
what  remained  of  the  woman,  hung  the  great 
spear,  weighted  with  half  a  thousand  pounds 
of  stone  and  sure  to  reach  its  mark  should  the 
tiger  seek  its  prey  again.  The  branch  was 
broad  and  the  line  of  rhinoceros  skin  taut,  and 
Ab's  flint  knife  was  keen  of  edge.  Only  cour 
age  and  calmness  were  needed  in  the  dread 


FACING  THE  RAIDER  3°3 

presence  of  the  monster  of  the  time.  Neither 
the  swarthy  Boarface  nor  the  gaunt  Hilltop 
wanted  to  leave  him,  but  Ab  forced  them 
away. 

Not  long  to  wait  had  the  cave  man,  but  the 
men  who  had  been  with  him  were  already 
distant.  The  shadows  were  growing  long  now, 
but  the  light  was  still  from  the  sunshine  of  the 
early  afternoon.  The  man  lying  along  the 
limb,  knife  in  hand,  could  hear  no  sound  save 
the  soft  swish  of  leaves  against  each  other  as 
the  breeze  of  later  day  pushed  its  way  through 
the  forest,  or  the  alarmed  cries  of  knowing 
birds  who  saw  on  the  ground  beneath  them  a 
huge  thing  slip  along  with  scarce  a  sound  from 
the  impact  of  his  fearfully  clawed  but  padded 
feet  as  he  sought  the  meal  he  had  prepared 
for  himself.  The  great  beast  was  approach 
ing.  The  great  man  aloft  was  waiting. 

Into  the  open  along  the  path  came  the  tiger, 
and  Ab,  gripping  the  limb  more  firmly,  looked 
down  upon  the  thing  so  closely  and  in  daylight 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  Ab  was  certainly 
brave,  and  he  was  calm  and  wise  and  thinking 
beyond  his  time,  but  when  he  saw  plainly  this 
beast  which  had  slipped  so  easily  and  silently 
from  the  forest,  safe  though  he  was  upon  his 


304  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

perch,  he  was  more  than  startled.  The  thing 
was  so  huge  and  with  an  aspect  so  terrible  to 
look  upon! 

The  great  cat's  head  moved  slowly  from 
side  to  side;  the  baleful  eyes  blazed  up  and 
down  the  pathway  and  the  tawny  muzzle  was 
lifted  to  catch  what  burden  there  might  be  on 
the  air.  The  beast  seemed  satisfied,  emerging 
fairly  into  the  sunlight.  Immense  of  size  but 
with  the  graceful  lankness  of  the  tigers  of  to 
day,  Sabre-Tooth  somewhat  resembled  them, 
though,  beside  him,  the  largest  inmate  of  the 
Indian  jungle  would  appear  but  puny.  The 
creature  Ab  looked  upon  that  day  so  long 
ago  was  beautiful,  in  his  way.  He  was  beau 
tiful  as  is  the  peacock  or  the  banded  rattle 
snake.  There  were  color  contrasts  and  fine 
blendings.  The  stripes  upon  him  were  won 
derfully  rich,  and  as  he  came  creeping  toward 
the  body,  he  was  as  splendid  as  he  was  dreadful. 

With  every  nerve  strained,  but  with  his  first 
impulse  of  something  like  terror  gone,  Ab 
watched  the  devourer  beneath  him  while  his 
sharp  flint  knife,  hard  gripped,  bore  lightly 
against  the  taut  rhinoceros-hide  rope.  The 
tiger  began  his  ghastly  meal  but  was  not  quite 
beneath  the  suspended  spear.  Then  came 


FACING  THE  RAIDER  305 

some  distant  sound  in  the  forest  and  he  raised 
his  head  and  shifted  his  position.  He  was 
fairly  under  the  spear  now.  The  knife  pressed 
firmly  against  the  rawhide  was  drawn  back 
and  forth  noiselessly  but  with  effectiveness. 
Suddenly  the  last  tissue  parted  and  the  enor 
mously-weighted  spear  fell  like  a  lightning- 
stroke.  The  broad  flint  head  struck  the  tiger 
fairly  between  the  shoulders,  and,  impelled  by 
such  a  weight,  passed  through  his  huge  body 
as  if  it  had  met  no  obstacle.  Upon  the  strong 
shaft  of  ash  the  monster  was  impaled.  There 
echoed  and  reechoed  through  the  forest  a  roar 
so  fearful  that  even  the  hunters  whom  Ab  had 
sent  far  away  from  the  scene  of  the  tragedy 
clambered  to  the  trees  for  refuge.  The  strug 
gles  of  the  pierced  brute  were  tremendous  be 
yond  description,  but  no  strength  could  avail 
it  now;  it  had  received  its  death  wound  and 
soon  the  great  tiger  lay  still,  as  harmless  as 
the  squirrel,  frightened  and  hidden  in  his  nest. 
In  wild  triumph  Ab  slid  to  the  ground  and 
then  the  long  cry  to  summon  his  party  went 
echoing  through  the  wood.  When  the  others 
found  him  he  had  withdrawn  the  spear  and 
was  already  engaged,  flint  knife  in  hand,  in 
20 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

stripping  from  the  huge  body  the  glorious  robo 
it  wore. 

There  was  excitement  and  rejoicing.  The 
terror  had  been  slain!  The  Shell  People  were 
frantic  in  their  exultation.  Meanwhile  Ab 
had  called  upon  his  own  people  to  assist  him 
and  the  wonderful  skin  of  the  tiger  was  soon 
stretched  out  upon  the  ground,  a  glorious 
possession  for  a  cave  man. 

"I  will  have  half  of  it,"  declared  Boarface, 
and  he  and  Ab  faced  each  other  menacingly. 
"It  shall  not  be  cut,"  was  the  fierce  retort. 
' '  It  is  mine.  I  killed  the  tiger!" 

Strong  hands  gripped  stone  axes  and  there 
was  chance  of  deadly  fray  then  and  there,  but 
the  Shell  People  interfered  and  the  Shell  People 
excelled  in  number,  and  were  a  potent  influ 
ence  for  peace.  Ab  carried  away  the  splendid 
trophy,  but  as  Boarface  and  his  men  departed, 
there  were  black  faces  and  threatening  words. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

LITTLE   MOK. 

AMONG  all  the  children  of  Ab — and  remark 
able  it  was  for  the  age — the  best  loved  was 
Little  Mok,  the  eldest  son.  When  the  child, 
strong  and  joyous,  was  scarcely  two  years  old, 
he  fell  from  a  ledge  off  the  cliff  where  he 
had  climbed  to  play,  and  both  his  legs  were 
broken.  Strange  to  say  he  survived  the  acci 
dent  in  that  time  when  the  law  of  the  survival 
of  the  fittest  was  almost  invariable  in  its 
sternest  and  most  purely  physical  demonstra 
tion.  The  mother  love  of  Lightfoot  warded 
off  the  last  pitiless  blow  of  nature,  although 
the  child,  a  hopeless  cripple,  never  after  walked. 
The  name  Little  Mok  was  naturally  given  him, 
and  before  long  the  child  had  won  the  heart, 
as  well  as  the  name,  of  the  limping  old  maker 
of  axes,  spearheads  and  arrows. 

The  closer  ties  of  family  life,  as  we  know 
them  now,  existed  but  in  their  outlines  to  the 
cave  man.  The  man  and  woman  were  faith 
ful  to  each  other  with  the  fidelity  of  the  higher 
307 


3°8  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

animals  and  their  children  were  cared  for  with 
rough  tenderness  in  their  infancy.  The  time 
of  absolute  dependence  was  made  very  short, 
though,  and  children  very  early  were  required 
to  find  some  of  their  own  food,  and  taught  by 
necessity  to  protect  themselves.  But  Little 
Mok,  unable  to  take  up  for  himself  the  burden 
of  an  independent  existence,  was  not  slain  nor 
left  to  die  of  neglect  as  might  have  been  an 
other  child  thus  crippled  in  the  time  in  which 
he  lived.  He,  once  spared,  grew  into  the 
wild  hearts  of  those  closest  to  him  and  became 
the  guarded  and  cherished  one  of  the  rude 
home  of  Ab  and  Lightfoot,  and  to  him  was 
thus  given  the  continuous  love  and  care  which 
the  strong-limbed  boys  and  girls  of  the  family 
lost  and  never  missed. 

It  was  a  strange  thing  for  the  time.  The 
child  had  qualities  other  than  the  negative 
ones  of  helplessness  and  weakness  with  which 
to  bind  to  him  the  hearts  of  those  around  him, 
but  the  primary  fact  of  his  entire  dependence 
upon  them  was  what  made  him  the  center  of 
the  little  circle  of  untaught,  untamed  cave 
people  who  lived  in  the  Fire  Valley.  He  may 
have  been  the  first  child  ever  so  cherished  from 
such  impulse. 


LITTLE  MOK  3°9 

From  his  mother  the  child  inherited  a  joyous 
disposition  which  nothing  could  subdue.  Often 
on  the  return  home  from  some  little  expedition 
on  which  it  had  been  practicable  to  take  him, 
sitting  on  Lightfoot's  shoulder,  or  on  the  still 
stronger  arm  of  old  One-Ear,  his  silent,  some 
what  brooding  grandfather,  the  little  brown 
boy  made  the  woods  ring  with  shrill  bird  calls, 
or  the  mimicry  of  animals,  and  ever  his  laugh 
ter  rilled  the  spaces  in  between  these  sounds. 
Other  children  flocked  around  the  merry 
youngster,  seeking  to  emulate  his  play  of  voice 
and  the  oldsters  smiled  as  they  saw  and  heard 
the  joyous  confusion  about  the  tiny  reveler. 
The  excursions  to  the  river  were  Little  Mok's 
chief  delight  from  his  early  childhood.  He 
entered  into  the  preparations  for  them  with  a 
zest  and  keen  enjoyment  born  of  the  presence 
of  an  adventurous  spirit  in  a  maimed  body,  and 
when  the  fishing  party  left  the  Fire  Camp  it 
was  incomplete  if  Little  Mok  was  not  carried 
lightly  at  the  van,  the  life  and  joy  of  the  occa 
sion. 

No  one  ever  forgot  the  day  when  Little  Mok, 
then  about  six  years  old,  caught  his  first  fish. 
His  joy  and  pride  infected  all  as  he  exhibited 
his  prize  and  boasted  of  what  he  would  catch 


3*0  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

in  the  river  next,  and  when,  on  the  return,  Old 
Mok  saluted  him  as  the  " Great  Fisherman," 
the  elf's  elation  became  too  great  for  any  ex 
pression.  His  little  chest  heaved,  his  eyes 
flashed,  and  then  he  wriggled  from  Light- 
foot's  arms  into  the  lap  of  Old  Mok,  snuggled 
down  into  the  old  man's  furs  and  hid  his  face 
there;  and  the  two  understood  each  other. 

It  was  soon  after  this  great  event  of  the  first 
fish-catching  that  Red-Spot,  Ab's  mother, 
died.  She  had  never  quite  adapted  herself  to 
the  new  life  in  the  Fire  Valley,  and  after  a 
time  she  began  to  grow  old  very  fast.  At  last 
a  fever  attacked  her  and  the  end  of  her  patient, 
busy  life  came.  After  her  death  One-Ear  was 
much  in  Old  Mok's  cave,  the  two  had  so  long 
been  friends.  There  with  them  the  crippled 
boy  was  often  to  be  found.  He  was  not  always 
gay  and  joyous.  Sometimes  he  lay  for  days 
on  his  bed  of  leaves  at  home,  in  weakness  and 
pain,  silent  and  unlike  himself.  Then  when 
Lightfoot's  care  had  given  him  back  a  little 
strength,  he  would  beg  to  be  taken  to  Old  Mok's 
cave.  There  he  could  sleep,  he  said,  away 
from  the  noise  and  the  lights  of  the  out 
side  world,  and  finally  he  claimed  and  was 
allowed  a  nest  of  his  own  in  the  warmest  and 


LITTLE  MOK  311 

darkest  nook  of  Old  Mok's  den,  where  he  slept 
every  night,  and  sometimes  a  good  part  of  the 
day,  when  one  of  his  times  of  pain  and  weak 
ness  was  upon  him.  Here  during  many  a  long 
hour  of  work,  experiment  and  argument,  the 
wide  eyes  and  quick  ears  of  Little  Mok  saw  and 
heard,  while  Ab,  Mok  and  One-Ear  bent  over 
their  work  at  arrowhead  or  spear  point,  and 
talked  of  what  might  be  done  to  improve  the 
weapons  upon  which  so  much  depended.  Here, 
when  no  one  else  remained  in  the  weary  dark 
ness  of  night  and  the  half  light  of  stormy  days 
Old  Mok  beguiled  the  time  with  stories,  and 
sometimes  in  a  hoarse  voice  even  attempted  to 
chant  to  his  little  hearer  snatches  of  the  wild 
singing  tales  of  the  Shell  People,  for  the  Shell 
People  had  a  sort  of  story  song. 

Once,  when  Lightfoot  sat  by  Old  Mok's 
fire,  she  told  them  of  the  time  when  she  and 
Ab  found  themselves  outside  their  cave, 
unarmed,  with  a  bear  to  be  eaten  through 
before  they  could  get  into  their  door,  and 
Little  Mok  surprised  his  mother  and  Old  Mok 
by  an  outburst  of  laughter  at  the  tale.  He 
had  a  glimmering  of  humor,  and  saw  the 
droll  side  of  the  adventure,  a  view  which  had 
not  occurred  to  Lightfoot,  nor  to  Ab.  The 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

little  lad,  of  the  world,  yet  not  in  it,  saw 
vaguely  the  surprises,  lights  and  shades  and 
contrasts  of  existence,  and  sometimes  they 
made  him  laugh.  The  laugh  of  the  cave 
man  was  not  a  common  event,  and  when  it 
came  was  likely  to  be  sober  and  sardonic,  at 
least  it  was  so  when  not  simply  an  evidence 
of  rude  health  and  high  animal  spirits.  Hu 
mor  is  one  of  the  latest,  as  it  is  one  of  the 
most  precious,  grains  shaken  out  of  Time's 
hour-glass,  but  Little  Mok  somehow  caught 
a  tiny  bit  of  the  rainbow  gift,  long  before  its 
time  in  the  world,  and  soon,  with  him,  it 
was  to  disappear  for  centuries  to  come. 

One  day  when  Little  Mok  was  brought  back 
from  an  expedition  to  the  river,  he  told  Old 
Mok  how  he  had  sat  long  on  the  bank,  too 
tired  to  fish,  and  had  just  rested  and  feasted 
his  eyes  on  the  wood,  the  stream,  the  small 
darting  creatures  in  it,  the  birds,  and  the 
animals  which  came  to  drink.  Describing  a 
herd  of  reindeer  which  had  passed  near  him, 
Little  Mok  took  up  a  piece  of  Old  Mok's  red 
chalkstone  and  on  the  wall  of  the  cave  drew 
a  picture  of  the  animal.  The  veteran  stared 
in  surprise.  The  picture  was  wonderfully 
life-like  in  grasp  and  detail,  The  child  owned 


LITTLE  MOK  3*3 

that  great  gift,  the  memory  of  sight,  and  his 
hand  was  cunning.  Encouraged  by  his  suc 
cess,  the  boy  drew  on,  delighting  Old  Mok 
with  his  singular  fidelity  and  skill.  Then 
came  hours  and  days  of  sketching  and  etching 
in  the  old  man's  cave.  The  master  was 
delighted.  He  brought  out  from  their  hiding 
places  his  choicest  pieces  of  mammoth  tusk 
or  teeth  of  the  river-horse  for  Little  Mok's 
etchings  and  carvings.  And,  as  time  passed, 
the  young  artist  excelled  the  old  one,  and 
became  the  pride  and  boast  of  his  friend  and 
teacher.  Sometimes  the  little  lad  would 
work  far  into  the  night,  for  he  could  not 
pause  when  he  had  begun  a  thing  until  it  was 
complete — but  then  he  would  sleep  in  his 
warm  nest  until  noon  the  next  day,  crawling 
out  to  cook  a  bit  of  meat  for  himself  at  the 
nearest  fire,  or  sharing  Old  Mok's  meal,  as 
was  more  convenient. 

While  everything  else  in  the  Fire  Valley 
was  growing,  developing  and  flourishing,  Little 
Mok's  frail  body  had  ever  grown  but  slowly, 
and  about  the  beginning  of  his  twelfth  year 
there  appeared  a  change  in  him.  He  became 
permanently  weak  and  grew  more  and  more 
helpless  day  by  day.  His  cherished  excursions 


3H  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

to  the  river,  even  his  little  journeys  on  old 
One-Ear's  strong  arm  to  the  cliff  top,  from 
whence  he  could  see  the  whole  world  at  once, 
had  all  to  be  abandoned. 

When  the  winter  snows  began  to  whirl  in 
the  air  Little  Mok  was  lying  quietly  on  his 
bed,  his  great  eyes  looking  wistfully  up  at 
Lightfoot,  who  in  vain  taxed  her  limited  skill 
and  resources  to  tempt  him  to  eat  and  be 
come  more  sturdy.  She  hovered  over  him 
like  a  distressed  mother  bird  over  its  young 
ling  fallen  from  the  nest,  but,  with  all  her 
efforts,  she  could  not  bring  back  even  his 
usual  slight  measure  of  health  and  strength  to 
the  poor  Little  Mok.  Ab  came  sometimes 
and  looked  sadly  at  the  two  and  then  walked 
moodily  away,  a  great  weight  on  his  breast. 
Old  Mok  was  always  at  work,  and  yet  always 
ready  to  give  Little  Mok  water  or  turn  his 
weary  little  frame  on  its  rude  bed,  or  spread 
the  furs  over  the  wasted  body,  and  always 
Lightfoot  waited  and  hoped  and  feared. 

And  at  last  Little  Mok  died,  and  was  buried 
under  the  stones,  and  the  snow  fell  over  the 
lonely  cairn  under  the  fir  trees  outside  the 
Fire  Valley  where  his  grave  was  made. 

Lightfoot  was  silent  and  sad,  and  could  not 


LITTLE  MOK 


315 


smile  nor  laugh  any  more.  She  longed  for 
Little  Mok,  and  did  not  eat  or  sleep.  One 
night  Ab,  trying  to  comfort  her,  said,  "You 
will  see  him  again." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  cried  Lightfoot. 
And  Ab  only  answered,  "You  will  see  him;  he 
will  come  at  night.  Go  to  sleep,  and  you 
will  see  him." 

But  Lightfoot  could  not  sleep  yet  and  for 
many  a  night  her  eyes  closed  only  when  ex 
treme  fatigue  compelled  sleep  toward  the 
morning. 

And  at  last,  after  many  days  and  nights, 
Lightfoot,  when  asleep,  saw  Little  Mok. 
Just  as  in  life,  she  saw  him,  with  all  his  famil 
iar  looks  and  motions.  But  he  did  not  stay 
long.  And  again  and  again  she  saw  him,  and 
it  comforted  her  somewhat  because  he  smiled. 
There  had  come  to  her  such  a  heartache 
about  him,  lying  out  there  under  the  snow 
and  stones,  with  no  one  to  care  for  him,  that 
the  smile  warmed  her  heavy  heart  and  she 
told  Ab  that  she  had  seen  Little  Mok,  only 
whispering  it  to  him — for  it  was  not  well,  she 
knew,  to  talk  about  such  things — and  she 
whispered  to  Ab,  too,  her  anguish  that  Little 
Mok  only  came  at  night,  and  never  when  it 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

was  day,  but  she  did  not  complain.  She  only 
said:  "I  want  to  see  him  in  the  daytime." 

And  Ab  could  think  of  nothing  to  say. 
But  that  made  him  think  more  and  more.  He 
felt  drawn  closer  to  Lightfoot,  his  wife,  no 
longer  a  young  girl,  but  the  mother  of  Little 
Mok,  who  was  dead,  and  of  all  his  children. 

In  his  mind  arose,  vaguely  obscure,  yet 
persistent,  the  idea  that  brute  strength  and 
vigor,  keen  senses  and  reckless  bravery  were 
not,  after  all,  the  sole  qualities  that  make  and 
influence  men.  Old  Mok,  crippled  and  dis 
abled  for  the  hunt  and  defense,  was  never 
theless  a  power  not  to  be  despised,  and  Little 
Mok,  the  helpless  child,  had  been  still  strong 
enough  to  win  and  keep  the  love  of  all  the 
stalwart  and  rough  cave  people.  Ab  was 
sorry  for  Lightfoot.  When  in  the  spring  the 
forlorn  mother  held  in  her  arms  a  baby  girl  a 
little  brightness  came  into  her  eyes  again,  and 
Ab,  seeing  this,  was  glad,  but  neither  Ab  nor 
Lightfoot  ever  forgot  their  eldest  and  dearest, 
Little  Mok. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BARRIERS. 

WHILE  Ab  had  been  occupied  by  home  affairs 
trouble  for  him  and  his  people  had  been  brew 
ing.  By  no  means  unknown  to  each  other 
before  the  tiger  hunt  were  Ab  and  Boar- 
face.  They  had  hunted  together  and  once 
Boarface,  with  half  a  dozen  companions,  had 
visited  the  Fire  Valley  and  had  noted  its  many 
attractions  and  advantages.  Now  Boarface 
had  gone  away  angry  and  muttering,  and  he 
was  not  a  man  to  be  thought  of  lightly.  His 
rage  over  the  memory  of  Ab's  trophy  did  not 
decrease  with  the  return  to  his  own  region. 
Why  should  this  cave  man  of  the  West  have 
sole  possession  of  that  valley,  which  was  warm 
and  green  throughout  the  winter  and  where 
the  wild  beasts  could  not  enter?  Why  had 
he,  this  Ab,  been  allowed  to  go  away  with  all 
the  tiger's  skin?  Brooding  enlarged  into  re 
solve  and  Boarface  gathered  together  his  rela 
tions  and  adherents.  « 'Let  us  go  and  take  the 
Fire  Valley  of  Ab,"  he  said  to  them,  and, 
317 


3*8  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

gradually,  though  objections  were  made  to  the 
undertaking  of  an  enterprise  so  fraught  with 
danger,  the  listeners  were  persuaded. 

' 'There  are  other  fires  far  down  the  river," 
said  one  old  man.  "Let  us  go  there,  if  it  is  fire 
we  most  need,  and  so  we  will  not  disturb  nor 
anger  Ab,  who  has  lived  in  his  valley  for  many 
years.  Why  battle  with  Ab  and  all  his 
people?" 

But  Boarface  laughed  aloud:  "There  are 
many  other  earth  fires,"  he  said.  "I  know  them 
well,  but  there  is  no  other  fire  which  chances  to 
make  a  flaming  fence  about  a  valley  close  to 
the  great  rocks,  and  which  has  water  within  the 
space  it  surrounds  and  which  makes  a  wall 
against  all  the  wild  beasts.  We  will  fight  and 
win  the  valley  of  Ab. " 

And  so  they  were  led  into  the  venture.  They 
sought,  too,  the  aid  of  the  Shell  People  in  this 
raid,  but  were  not  successful.  The  Shell  Peo 
ple  were  not  unfriendly  to  those  of  the  Fire 
Valley,  and  had  not  Ab  been  really  the  one  to 
kill  the  tiger?  Besides,  it  was  not  wise  for  the 
waterside  dwellers  to  engage  in  any  controversy 
between  the  forest  factions,  for  the  hill  people 
had  memories  and  heavy  axes.  A  few  of  the 
younger  and  more  adventurous  joined  the  force 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BARRIERS          3*9 

of  Boarface,  but  the  alliance  had  no  tribal 
sanction.  Still,  the  force  of  the  swarthy  leader 
of  the  Eastern  cave  men  was  by  no  means  in 
significant.  It  contained  good  fighting  men, 
and,  when  runners  had  gone  far  and  wide  in 
the  Eastern  country,  there  were  gathered 
nearly  ten  score  of  hunters  who  could  throw 
the  spear  or  wield  the  ax  and  who  were  not 
fearful  of  their  lives.  The  band  led  by  Boar- 
face  started  for  the  Fire  Country,  intending  to 
surprise  the  people  in  the  valley.  They  moved 
swiftly,  but  not  so  swiftly  as  a  fleet  young 
man  from  the  Shell  People  who  preceded 
them.  He  was  sent  by  the  elders  a  day  be 
fore  the  time  fixed  for  the  assault,  and  so  Ab 
learned  all  about  the  intended  raid.  Then 
went  forth  runners  from  the  valley;  then  the 
matron  Lightfoot's  eyes  became  fiery,  since 
Ab  was  threatened;  then  old  Hilltop  looked 
carefully  over  his  spears,  and  poised  thought 
fully  his  great  stone  ax;  then  Moonface  smote 
her  children  and  gathered  together  certain 
weapons,  and  then  Old  Mok  went  into  his  cave 
and  stayed  there,  working  at  none  knew  what. 
They  came  from  all  about,  the  Western  cave 
men,  for  never  in  the  valley  had  food  or  shelter 
been  refused  to  any  and  the  Eastern  cave  men 


320  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

were  not  loved.  Many  a  quarrel  over  game 
had  taken  place  between  the  raging  hunters  of 
the  different  tribes,  and  many  a  bloody  single- 
handed  encounter  had  come  in  the  depths  of 
the  forest.  The  band  was  not  a  large  one,  the 
Eastern  men  being  far  more  numerous,  but  the 
outlook  was  not  as  fine  as  it  might  be  for  the 
advancing  Boarface.  The  force  assembled 
inside  the  valley  was,  in  point  of  numbers,  but 
little  more  than  half  his  own,  but  it  was  in 
trenched  and  well-armed,  and  there  were  those 
among  the  defenders  whom  it  was  not  well  to 
meet  in  fight.  But  Boarface  was  confident 
and  was  not  dismayed  when  his  force  crept  into 
the  open  only  to  find  the  ordinary  valley 
entrance  barred  and  all  preparations  made  for 
giving  him  a  welcome  of  the  warmer  sort. 
There  was  what  could  not  be  thoroughly  bar 
ricaded  in  so  brief  a  time,  the  entrance  where 
the  brook  issued  at  the  west.  This  pass  must 
be  forced,  for  the  straight,  uprising  wall  be 
tween  the  flames  and  across  the  opening  to 
the  north  was  something  relatively  unassail 
able.  It  was  too  narrow  and  too  high  and 
sheer  and  there  were  too  many  holes  in  the 
wall  through  which  could  be  sent  those  piercing 
arrows  which  the  Western  cave  men  knew  how 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BARRIERS    3«> 

to  use  so  well.  The  battle  must  be  up  along 
the  bed  of  the  little  creek.  The  water  was 
low  at  this  season,  so  low  that  a  man  might 
wade  easily  anywhere,  and  there  had  been 
erected  only  a  slight  barrier,  enough  to  keep 
wild  beasts  away,  for  Ab  had  never  thought  of 
invasion  by  human  beings.  The  creek  tum 
bled  downward,  through  passages,  between 
straight-sided,  ruggedly  built  stone  heaps,  with 
spaces  between  wide  enough  to  admit  a  man, 
but  not  any  great  beast  of  prey.  There  was 
no  place  where,  by  a  man,  the  wall  could  not 
easily  be  mounted  and,  above,  there  was  no 
really  good  place  of  vantage  for  the  defenders. 
So  the  invading  force,  concealment  of  action 
being  no  longer  necessary,  ranged  themselves 
along  the  banks  of  the  creek  to  the  west  of  the 
valley  and  prepared  for  a  rush.  They  had 
certain  chances  in  their  favor.  They  were 
strong  men,  who  knew  how  to  use  their 
weapons  well,  and  they  were  in  numbers  almost 
as  two  to  one.  Meanwhile,  inside  the  valley, 
where  the  approach  and  plans  of  the  enemy 
had  been  seen  and  understood,  there  had  gone 
on  swiftly,  under  Ab's  stern  direction,  such 
preparation  for  the  fray  as  seemed  most  ade 
quate  with  the  means  at  hand. 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

The  great  advantage  possessed  was  that  the 
defenders,  on  firm  footing  themselves,  could 
meet  men  climbing,  and  so,  a  little  further  up 
the  creek  than  the  beast-opposing  wall,  had 
been  thrown  up  what  was  little  more  than  a 
rude  platform  of  rock,  wide  and  with  a  broad 
expanse  of  top,  on  which  all  the  valley's  force 
might  cluster  in  an  emergency.  Upon  this 
the  people  were  to  gather,  defending  the  first 
pass,  if  they  could,  by  flights  of  spears  and 
arrows  and  here,  at  the  end,  to  win  or  lose. 
This  was  the  general  preparation  for  the  on 
slaught,  but  there  had  been  precautions  taken 
more  personal  and  more  involving  the  course 
of  the  most  important  of  the  people  of  the 
valley. 

At  the  left  of  the  gorge,  where  must  come 
the  invaders,  the  rock  rose  sheerly  and  at  one 
place  extended  outward  a  shelf,  high  up,  but 
reached  easily  from  the  Fire  Valley  side. 
There  were  consultations  between  Ab  and  the 
angry  and  anxious  and  almost  tearful  Light- 
foot.  That  charming  lady,  now  easily  the 
best  archer  of  the  tribe,  had  developed  at  once 
into  a  fighting  creature  and  now  demanded 
that  her  place  be  assigned  to  her.  With  her 
own  bow,  and  with  arrows  in  quantity,  it  was 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BARRIERS          323 

decided  that  she  should  occupy  the  ledge  and 
do  all  she  could.  Upon  the  ledge  was  com 
parative  safety  in  the  fray,  and  Ab  directed 
that  she  should  go  there.  Old  Hilltop  said 
but  little.  It  was  understood,  almost  as  a 
matter  of  course,  that  he  would  be  upon  the 
barrier  and  there  face,  with  Ab,  the  greatest 
issue.  The  old  man  was  by  no  means  unsat 
isfactory  to  look  upon  as  he  moved  silently 
about  and  got  ready  the  weapons  he  might 
have  to  use.  Gaunt,  strong-muscled  and  reso 
lute,  he  was  worthy  of  admiration.  Ever 
following  him  with  her  eyes,  when  not  en 
gaged  in  the  chastisement  of  one  of  her  swart 
brood,  was  Moonface,  for  Moonface  had  long 
since  learned  to  regard  her  grizzled  lord  with 
love  as  well  as  much  respect. 

There  were  other  good  fighting  men  and 
other  women  beside  these  mentioned  who 
would  do  their  best,  but  these  few  were  the 
dominant  figures.  Meanwhile,  Boarface  and 
his  strong  band  had  decided  upon  their  plan 
of  attack  and  would  soon  rush  up  the  bed  of 
the  shallow  stream  with  all  the  bravery  and 
ferocity  of  those  who  were  accustomed  to  face 
death  lightly  and  to  seize  that  which  they 
wanted. 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

The  invaders  came  clambering  up  the  creek's 
course,  openly  and  with  menacing  and  defiant 
shouts,  for  any  concealment  was  now  out  of 
the  question.  They  had  but  few  bows  and 
could,  under  the  conditions,  send  no  arrow 
flight  which  would  be  of  avail,  but  they  had 
thews  and  sinews  and  spears  and  axes.  As 
they  came  with  such  rush  as  men  might  make 
up  a  tumbling  waterway  with  slipping  pebbles 
beneath  the  feet  and  forced  themselves  one 
by  one  between  the  heaped  stone  piles  and 
fairly  in  front  of  the  barrier  there  was  a  dis 
charge  of  arrows  and  more  than  one  man, 
impaled  by  a  stone-headed  shaft,  fell,  to  dab 
ble  feebly  in  the  water,  and  did  not  rise  again. 
But  there  came  a  time  in  the  fight  when  the 
bow  must  be  abandoned. 

The  assault  was  good  and  the  demeanor  of 
the  men  behind  the  barrier  was  good  as  well. 
Not  more  gallant  was  one  group  than  the 
other  for  there  were  splendid  fighters  in  both 
ranks.  The  boasted  short  sword  of  the  Ro 
mans,  in  times  effeminate,  as  compared  with 
these,  afforded  not  in  its  wielding  a  greater 
test  of  personal  courage  than  the  handling  of 
the  flint-headed  spear  or  the  stone  knife  or 
chipped  ax.  There,  all  along  the  barrier, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BARRIERS    325 

was  the  real  grappling  of  man  and  man,  with 
further  existence  as  the  issue. 

The  invaders,  losing  many  of  their  number, 
for  arrows  flew  steadily  and  a  mass  so  large 
could  not  easily  be  missed  even  by  the  most 
bungling  of  those  strong  archers,  swept  upward 
to  the  barrier  and  then  was  a  muscular,  deadly 
tumult  worth  the  seeing.  To  the  south  and 
nearest  the  side  where  Lightfoot  was  perched 
with  her  bow  and  great  bunch  of  arrows  Ab 
stood  in  front,  while  to  his  right  and  near  the 
other  end  of  the  rude  stone  rampart  was  sta 
tioned  old  Hilltop,  and  he  hurled  his  spears 
and  slew  men  as  they  came.  The  fight  be 
came  simply  a  death  struggle,  with  the  ad 
vantage  of  position  upon  one  side  and  of 
numbers  on  the  other.  And  Ab  and  Boarface 
were  each  seeking  the  other. 

So  the  struggle  lasted  for  a  long  half  hour, 
and  when  it  ended  there  were  dead  and  dying 
men  upon  the  barrier,  while  the  waters  of  the 
creek  were  reddened  by  the  blood  of  the  slain 
assailants.  The  assault  now  ebbed  a  little. 
Neither  Ab  nor  Hilltop  had  been  injured  in 
the  struggle.  As  the  invaders  pressed  close 
Ab  had  noted  the  whish  of  an  arrow  now  and 
then  and  the  hurt  to  one  pressing  him  closely, 


326  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

and  old  Hilltop  had  heard  the  wild  cries  of  a 
woman  who  hovered  in  his  rear  and  hurled 
stones  in  the  faces  of  those  who  strove  to 
reach  him.  And  now  there  came  a  lull. 

Boarface  had  recognized  the  futility  of  scal 
ing,  under  such  conditions,  a  steep  so  well  de 
fended  and  had  thought  of  a  better  way  to 
gain  his  end  and  crush  Ab  and  his  people. 
He  had  heard  the  story  of  Ab's  first  advent 
into  the  valley  when,  chased  by  the  wolves, 
he  leaped  through  the  flame,  and  there  came 
an  inspiration  to  him!  What  one  man  had 
done  others  could  do,  and,  with  picked  war 
riors  of  his  band,  he  made  a  swift  detour, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  the  main  body  rushed 
desperately  upon  the  barrier  again. 

What  had  been  good  fighting  before  was 
better  now.  Lives  were  lost,  and  soon  all 
arrows  were  spent  and  all  spears  thrown,  and 
then  came  but  the  dull  clashing  of  stone 
axes.  Ab  raged  up  and  down,  and,  ever  in 
the  front,  faced  the  oncoming  foe  and  slew  as 
could  slay  the  strong  and  utterly  desperate. 
More  than  once  his  life  was  but  a  toy  of 
chance  as  men  sprang  toward  him,  two  or 
three  together,  but  ever  at  such  moment  there 
sang  an  arrow  by  his  head  and  one  of  his 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BARRIERS    327 

assailants,  pierced  in  throat  or  body,  fell  back 
blindly,  hampering  his  companions,  whose 
heads  Ab's  great  ax  was  seeking  fiercely. 
And,  all  the  time,  nearer  the  northern  end  of 
the  barrier,  old  Hilltop  fought  serenely  and 
dreadfully.  There  were  many  dead  men  in 
the  pools  of  the  creek  between  the  barrier  and 
the  entrance  to  the  valley.  And  about  Ab 
ever  sang  the  arrows  from  the  rocky  shelf. 

There  was  wild  clamor,  the  clash  of  weapons 
and  the  shouting  of  battle-crazed  men  but 
there  was  not  enough  to  drown  the  sound  of  a 
scream  which  rose  piercingly  above  the  din. 
Ab  recognized  the  voice  of  Lightfoot  and 
raised  his  eyes  to  see  the  woman,  regardless 
of  her  own  safety,  standing  upright  and  point 
ing  up  the  valley.  He  knew  that  something 
meaning  life  and  death  was  happening  and 
that  he  must  go.  He  leaped  backward  and 
a  huge  Western  cave  man  sprang  to  his  place, 
to  serve  as  best  he  could. 

Not  a  moment  too  soon  had  that  shrill  cry 
reached  the  ears  of  the  fighting  man.  He  ran 
backward,  shouting  to  a  score  of  his  people  to 
follow  him  as  he  ran,  and  in  an  instant  recog 
nized  that  he  had  been  outwitted,  at  least  for 
the  moment,  by  the  -vengeful  Boarface.  As 


328  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

he  rushed  to  the  east  toward  the  *vall  of 
flame  he  saw  a  dark  form  pass  through  its 
crest  in  a  flying  leap.  There  were  others  he 
knew  would  follow.  His  own  feat  of  long  ago 
was  being  repeated  by  Boarface  and  his  chosen 
group  of  best  men! 

It  was  not  Boarface  who  leaped  and  it  was 
hard  for  a  gallant  youth  of  the  Eastern  cave 
men  that  he  had  strength  and  daring  and  had 
dashed  ahead  in  the  assault,  for  he  had 
scarcely  touched  the  ground  when  there  sank 
deeply  into  his  head  a  stone  ax,  impelled  by 
the  strongest  arm  of  all  that  region,  and  he 
was  no  more  among  things  alive.  Ab  had 
reached  the  fire  wall  with  the  speed  of  a  great 
runner  while,  close  behind  him,  came  his  eager 
following. 

The  forces  could  see  each  other  clearly 
enough  now,  and  those  on  the  outside  outnum 
bered  those  on  the  inside  again  by  two  to  one. 
But  those  leaping  the  flames  could  not  alight 
poised  ready  for  a  blow,  and  there  were  adroit 
and  vengeful  axmen  awaiting  them.  There 
was  a  momentary  pause  for  planning  among 
the  assailants,  and  then  it  was  that  Ab  fumed 
over  his  own  lack  of  foresight.  His  chosen 
band  who  were  with  him  now  were  all  bow- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BARRIERS         329 

men,  and  about  the  shoulder  and  chest  of  each 
was  still  slung  his  weapon,  but  there  were  no 
more  arrows.  Each  quiverful  had  been  shot 
away  early  in  the  fight  and  then  had  come 
the  spear  and  ax  play.  But  what  a  chance 
for  arrows  now,  with  that  threatening  band 
preparing  for  the  rush  and  leap  together,  and, 
while  out  of  reach  of  spear  or  ax,  within  easy 
reach  of  the  singing  little  shafts!  Oh,  for  the 
shafts  now,  those  slender  barbed  things  which 
were  hurled  in  his  new  way!  And,  even  as 
he  thus  raged,  there  came  a  feeble  shout  from 
down  the  valley  behind  him  and  he  saw  some 
thing  very  good! 

Limping,  with  effort,  but  resolutely  forward, 
was  a  bent  old  man,  bearing  encircled  within 
his  long  arms  a  burden  which  Ab  himself  could 
not  have  carried  for  any  distance  without 
stress  and  labored  breathing.  The  lean  old 
Mok's  arms  were  locked  about  a  monster  sheaf 
of  straight  flint-headed  arrows,  a  sheaf  greater 
in  size  than  ever  man  had  looked  upon  before. 
The  crippled  veteran  had  not  been  idle  in  his 
cave.  He  had  worked  upon  the  store  of  shafts 
and  flintheads  he  had  accumulated,  and  here 
was  the  result  in  a  great  emergency! 

The  old  man  cast  his  sheaf  upon  the  ground 


330  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

and  then  sank  down,  somewhat  totteringly, 
beside  it.  There  needed  no  shout  of  command 
from  Ab  to  tell  those  about  him  what  to  do. 
There  was  one  combined  yell  of  sudden  exul 
tation,  a  rush  together  for  the  shafts  and  a 
swift  filling  of  empty  quivers.  It  was  but  the 
work  of  a  moment  or  two.  Then  something 
promptly  happened.  The  great  fellows,  though 
acting  without  orders,  shot  almost  "all  to 
gether,"  as  the  later  English  archers  did,  and 
so  close  just  across  the  flame  wall  was  the 
opposing  group  that  the  meanest  archer  in  all 
the  lot  could  scarcely  fail  to  reach  a  living 
target,  and  stronger  arms  drew  back  those 
arrows  than  were  the  arms  of  those  who  drew 
bowstring  in  the  battles  of  mediaeval  history. 
With  the  first  deadly  flight  came  a  scattering 
outside  and  men  lay  tossing  upon  the  ground 
in  their  death  agony.  There  was  no  cessation 
to  the  shot,  though  Boarface  sought  fiercely 
to  rally  his  followers,  until  all  had  fled  beyond 
the  range  of  the  bowmen.  Upon  the  ground 
were  so  many  dead  that  the  numbers  of  the 
two  forces  were  now  more  nearly  equal.  But 
Boarface  had  brave  followers.  They  ranged 
themselves  together  at  a  safe  distance  and 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BARRIERS    331 

then  started  for  the  flame  wall  with  a  rush,  to 
leap  it  all  together. 

There  was  another  arrow-flight  as  the  on 
slaught  came,  and  more  men  went  down,  but 
the  charge  could  not  be  stopped.  Over  the 
low  flame-crests  shot  a  great  mass  of  bodies, 
there  to  meet  that  which  was  not  good  for 
them.  The  struggle  was  swift  and  deadly,  but 
the  forces  were  almost  evenly  matched  now 
and  the  insiders  had  the  advantage.  Boarface 
and  Ab  met  face  to  face  in  the  melee  and  each 
leaped  toward  the  other  with  a  yell.  There 
was  to  be  a  fight  which  must  be  excellent,  for 
two  strong  leaders  were  meeting  and  there 
were  many  lives  at  stake. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

OLD  HILLTOP'S  LAST  STRUGGLE. 

EVEN  as  he  leaped  the  flames,  the  desperate 
Boarface  hurled  at  Ab  a  fragment  of  stone, 
which  was  a  thing  to  be  wisely  dodged,  and 
the  invader  was  fairly  on  his  feet  and  in  posi 
tion  to  face  his  adversary  as  the  axes  came 
together.  More  active,  more  powerful,  it  may 
be,  and  certainly  more  intelligent,  was  Ab  than 
Boarface,  but  the  leader  of  the  assailants  had 
been  a  raider  from  early  youth  and  knew  how 
to  take  advantage.  In  those  fierce  days 
to  attain  the  death  of  an  enemy,  in  any  way, 
was  the  practical  end  sought  in  a  conflict. 
Close  behind  Boarface  had  leaped  a  youth  to 
whom  the  leader  had  given  his  commands  be 
fore  the  onrush  and  who,  as  he  found  his  feet 
upon  the  valley's  sward,  sought,  not  an  adver 
sary  face  to  face,  but  circled  about  the  two 
champions,  seeking  only  to  get  behind  the 
leaping  Ab  while  Boarface  occupied  his  sole 
attention.  The  young  man  bore  a  great  stone- 
headed  club,  a  dreadful  weapon  in  such  hands 
312 


OLD  HILLTOP'S  LAST  STRUGGLE         333 

as  his.  The  men  struck  furiously  and  flakes 
spun  from  the  heavy  axes,  but  Boarface  was 
being  slowly  driven  back  when  there  descended 
upon  Ab's  shoulder  a  blow  which  swerved  him 
and  would  certainly  have  felled  a  man  with 
less  heaped  brawn  to  meet  the  impact.  At 
the  same  instant  Boarface  made  a  fierce 
downward  stroke  and  Ab  leaped  aside  without 
parrying  or  returning  it,  for  his  arm  was 
numbed.  Another  such  blow  from  the  new 
assailant  and  his  life  was  lost,  yet  he  dare  not 
turn.  That  would  be  his  death.  And  now 
Boarface  rushed  in  again  and  as  the  axes  came 
together  called  to  his  henchman  to  strike  more 
surely. 

And  just  then,  just  as  it  seemed  to  Ab  the 
end  was  near,  he  heard  behind  him  the  sharp 
twang  of  the  bowstring  which  had  sounded  so 
sweetly  at  the  valley's  other  end  and,  with  a 
groan,  there  pitched  down  upon  the  sward 
beside  him  a  writhing  man  whose  legs  drew 
back  and  forth  in  agony  and  who  had  been 
pierced  by  an  arrow  shot  fiercely  and  closely 
from  behind  and  driven  in  between  his  shoulder 
blades.  He  knew  what  it  must  mean.  The 
arm  which  had  drawn  that  arrow  to  its  head 
was  that  of  a  slight,  strong  creature  who  was 


334  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

not  a  man.  Lightfoot,  wild  with  love  and 
anxiety,  had  shot  past  Old  Mok  just  as  he  laid 
down  his  bundle  of  arrows,  and,  when  she  saw 
her  husband's  peril,  had  leaped  forward  with 
arrow  upon  string  and  slain  his  latest  assailant 
in  the  nick  of  time.  Now,  with  arrow  notched 
again  and  a  face  ablaze  with  murderous  help 
fulness,  she  hovered  near,  intent  only  upon 
sending  a  second  shaft  into  the  breast  of 
Boarface. 

But  there  was  no  need.  Unhampered  now, 
\b  rushed  in  upon  his  enemy  and  rained  such 
blows  as  only  a  giant  could  have  parried. 
Boarface  fought  desperately,  but  it  was  only 
man  to  man,  and  he  was  not  the  equal  of  the 
maddened  one  before  him.  His  ax  flew  from 
his  hand  as  his  wrist  was  broken  by  Ab's  de 
scending  weapon,  and  the  next  moment  he 
fell  limply  and  hardly  moved,  for  a  second 
blow  had  sunk  the  stone  weapon  so  deeply  in 
hi*;  head  that  the  haft  was  hidden  in  his  long 


(t  was  all  over  in  a  moment  now.  As  Ab 
tujned  with  a  shout  of  triumph  there  was  a 
swift  end  to  the  little  battle.  There  were 
brLt  encounters  here  and  there,  but  the  East 
ern  men  were  leaderless  and  less  well-equipped 


OLD  HILLTOP'S  LAST  STRUGGLE          335 

than  their  foes,  and  though  they  fought  as 
desperately  as  cornered  wolves,  there  was  no 
hope  for  them.  Three  escaped.  They  fled 
wildly  toward  the  flame  and  leaped  over  and 
through  its  flickering  yellow  crest  and  there 
was  no  pursuit.  It  was  not  a  time  for  besieged 
men  to  be  seeking  useless  vengeance.  There 
came  wild  yells  from  the  lower  end  of  the 
valley  where  the  greater  fight  was  on.  With 
a  cry  Ab  gathered  his  men  together  and  the 
victorious  band  ran  toward  the  barrier  again, 
there  with  overwhelming  force  to  end  the  strug 
gle.  Ever,  in  later  years,  did  Ab  regret  that 
his  fight  with  Boarface  had  not  ended  sooner. 
To  save  an  old  hero  he  had  come  too  late. 

Boarface,  when  taking  with  him  a  strong 
band  to  the  upper  end  of  the  valley,  had  still 
left  a  supposably  overwhelming  force  to  fight 
its  way  up  and  over  the  barrier.  Ab  away 
from  the  scene  of  struggle,  old  Hilltop  assumed 
command.  He  was  a  fit  man  for  such  death- 
facing  steadfastness  as  was  here  required. 

Never  had  Ab  been  able  to  persuade  Light- 
foot's  father  to  use  or  even  try  the  new  weapon, 
the  bow  and  arrow.  He  had  no  tender  feeling 
toward  modern  innovations.  He  had  a  clear 
eye  an4  strong  arm,  and  the  ax  and  spear 


336  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

were  good  enough  for  him!  He  recognized 
Ab's  great  qualities,  but  there  were  some  things 
that  even  a  well-regarded  son-in-law  could  not 
impose  upon  any  elder  family  male.  Among 
these  was  this  twanging  bow  with  its  light  shaft, 
better  fitted  for  a  child's  plaything  than  for 
real  work  among  men.  As  for  him,  give  him 
a  heavy  spear,  with  the  blade  well  set  in  thongs, 
or  a  heavy  ax,  with  the  head  well  clinched  in 
the  sinew-bound  wooden  haft.  There  was 
rarely  miss  or  failure  to  the  spear-thrust  or  the 
ax-stroke.  And  now,  in  proof  of  the  sound 
ness  of  his  old-fashioned  belief,  he  staked  rug 
gedly  his  life.  There  were  few  spears  left. 
There  were  only  axes  on  either  side.  And 
there  stood  old  Hilltop  upon  the  barrier,  while 
beside  him  and  all  across  stood  men  as  brave 
if  not  quite  as  sturdy  or  as  famous. 

In  the  rear  of  the  line,  noisy,  sometimes 
fierce  and  sometimes  weeping,  were  the  women, 
whose  skill  was  only  a  little  less  than  that  of 
the  males  and  who  were  even  more  ruthless  in 
all  feeling  toward  the  enemy.  And  still  easily 
chief  among  these,  conspicuous  by  her  noisy 
and  uncaring  demeanor  of  mingled  alarm  and 
vengefulness,  was  the  raging  Moonface.  She 
rushed  up  close  beside  her  husband's  defend- 


OLD  HILLTOP'S  LAST  STRUGGLE          337 

ing  group  and  still  hurled  stones  and  hurled 
them  most  effectively.  They  went  as  if  from 
a  catapult,  and  more  than  one  bone  or  head 
was  broken  that  day  by  those  missiles  from 
the  arm  of  this  squat  savage  wife  and  mother. 
But  the  men  below  were  outnumbering  and 
brave,  and  now,  maddened  by  different  emo 
tions,  the  lust  of  conquest,  the  murderous 
anger  over  slain  companions  and,  underlying 
all,  the  thought  of  ownership  of  this  fair  and 
warm  and  safe  place  of  home,  were  resolute  in 
their  attack.  They  had  faith  in  their  leader, 
Boarface,  and  expected  confidently  every  mo 
ment  an  onslaught  to  aid  them  from  above. 
And  so  they  came  up  the  watery  slope,  one 
pressing  blood-thirstily  behind  the  other  with 
an  earnestness  none  but  men  as  strong  and 
well  equipped  and  as  brave  or  braver  could 
hope  to  withstand.  The  closing  struggle  was 
desperate. 

Hilltop  stood  to  the  front,  between  two 
rocks  some  few  yards  apart,  over  which  bub 
bled  the  shallow  creek,  and  between  which 
was  the  main  upward  entrance  to  the  valley. 
He  stood  upon  a  rock  almost  as  flat  as  ir 
some  expert  engineer  of  ages  later  had  planet 
its  surface  and  then  adjusted  it  to  a  level, 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

leaving  the  shallow  waters  tumbling  all  about 
it.  The  rock  out-jutted  somewhat  on  the 
slope  and  there  must  necessarily  be  some  little 
climb  to  face  the  aged  defender.  On  either 
side  was  a  stretch  of  down-running,  gradually- 
sloping  waterfall,  full  of  great  boulders,  em 
barrassing  any  straight  rush  of  a  group 
together,  but,  between  and  upward,  sprang 
swart  men,  and  facing  them  on  either  side  of 
old  Hilltop  beyond  the  rocks  were  the  re 
mainder  of  the  mass  of  cave  men  upon  whom 
he  depended  for  making  good  the  defense  of 
the  whole  barrier.  Beside  him,  in  the  center 
of  the  battle,  were  the  two  creatures  in  the 
world  upon  whom  he  could  most  depend,  his 
stalwart  and  splendid  sons,  Strong-Arm  and 
Branch.  With  them,  as  gallant  if  not  as  strong 
as  his  great  brother,  stood  braced  the  eager 
Bark.  They  were  ready,  these  young  men, 
but,  as  it  chanced,  there  could  be,  at  the  be 
ginning  of  the  strong  clamber  of  the  foe,  only 
one  man  to  first  meet  them.  All  were  behind 
this  man  at  the  front,  for  the  flat  rock  came 
to  something  like  a  point.  He  stood  there, 
hairy  and  bare  except  for  the  skin  about  his 
hips,  and  with  only  an  ax  in  his  hand,  but 
\his  did  not  matter  so  much  as  it  might  have 


OLD  HILLTOP'S  LAST  STRUGGLE          339 

done,  for  only  axes  were  borne  by  the  up- 
clambering  assailants.  The  throwing  of  an 
ax  was  a  little  matter  to  the  sharp-eyed  and 
flexile-muscled  cave  men.  Who  could  not 
dodge  an  ax  was  better  out  of  the  way  and 
out  of  the  world.  A  meeting  such  as  this  im 
pending  must  be  a  matter  only  of  close  per 
sonal  encounter  and  fencing  with  arm  and 
wooden  handle  and  flint-head  of  edge  and 
weight. 

There  was  a  clash  of  stone  together,  and, 
one  after  another,  strong  creatures  with  cloven 
skulls  toppled  backward,  to  fall  into  the  bab 
bling  creek,  their  blood  helping  to  change  its 
coloring.  Leaping  from  side  to  side  across 
his  rock,  along  each  edge  of  which  the  water 
rushed,  old  Hilltop  met  the  mass  of  enemies, 
while  those  who  passed  were  brained  by  his 
great  sons  or  by  those  behind.  But  the  forces 
were  unequal  and  the  plane  in  front  was  not 
steep  enough  nor  the  water  deep  enough  to 
prevent  something  like  an  organized  on 
slaught.  With  fearful  regularity,  uplifted  and 
thrown  aside  occasionally  in  defense  to  avoid 
a  stroke,  the  ax  of  Hilltop  fell  and  there  was 
more  and  more  fine  fighting  and  fine  dying. 
On  either  side  were  men  doing  scarcely  less 


34°  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

stark  work.  Hilltop's  two  sons,  on  either  side 
of  him  now,  as  the  assailants,  crowded  by 
those  behind,  pressed  closer,  fully  justified 
their  parentage  by  what  they  did,  and  Bark 
was  like  a  young  tiger.  But  the  onslaught 
was  too  strong.  There  were  too  many  against 
too  few.  There  were  loud  cries,  a  sudden 
impulse  and,  though  axes  rose  and  fell  and 
more  men  tumbled  backward  into  the  water, 
the  rock  was  swept  upon  and  won  and  the  old 
man  stood  alone  amid  his  foes,  his  sons  hav 
ing  been  carried  backward  by  the  pressure  of 
the  mass.  There  was  sullen  battling  on  the 
upper  level,  but  there  was  no  fray  so  red  as 
that  where  Hilltop,  old  as  he  was,  swung  his 
awful  ax  among  the  close  crowding  throng  of 
enemies  about  him.  Four  fell  with  skulls 
cleanly  split  before  a  giant  of  the  invaders  got 
behind  the  gray  defender  of  the  pass.  Then 
an  ax  came  crashing  down  and  old  Hilltop 
pitched  forward,  dead  before  he  fell  into  the 
cool  waters  of  the  pool  below. 

There  was  a  yell  of  exultation  from  the 
upward-climbing  Eastern  cave  men  as  they 
saw  the  most  dangerous  of  their  immediate 
enemies  go  down,  but,  before  the  echoes  had 
come  back,  the  sound  was  lost  in  that  which 


OLD  HILLTOP'S  LAST  STRUGGLE         34* 

came  from  the  height  above  them.  It  was 
loud  and  threatening,  but  not  tfce  yell  of  their 
own  kind. 

There  had  come  sweeping  down  the  valley 
the  victors  in  the  fight  at  the  Eastern  end.  Abf 
with  the  lust  of  battle  fully  upon  him  as  he 
heard  the  wild  shriek  of  Moonface,  who  had 
seen  her  husband  fall,  was  a  creature  as  hun 
gry  for  blood  as  any  beast  of  all  the  forest,  and 
his  followers  were  scarce  less  terrible.  Swift 
and  dreadful  was  the  encounter  which  followed, 
but  the  issue  was  not  doubtful  for  a  moment. 
The  barrier's  living  defenders  became  as  wild 
themselves  as  were  these  conquering  allies. 
The  fight  became  a  massacre.  Flying  hope 
lessly  up  the  valley,  the  remnant,  only  some 
twenty,  of  the  Eastern  cave  men  ran  into  the 
vacant  big  cave  for  refuge  and  there,  barri 
caded,  could  keep  their  pursuers  at  bay  for 
the  time  at  least. 

There  was  no  immediate  attack  made  upon 
the  remnant  of  the  assailants  who  had  thus 
sought  refuge.  They  were  safely  imprisoned, 
and  about  the  cave's  entrance  there  lay  down 
to  eat  and  rest  a  body  of  vengeful  men  of  twice 
their  number.  The  struggle  was  over,  and 


342  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

won,  but  there  was  little  happiness  in  the  Fire 
Valley  which  had  been  so  well  defended. 

Moonface,  wildly  fighting,  had  seen  her  hus 
band's  death.  With  the  rush  of  Ab's  return 
ing  force  which  changed  the  tide  of  battle  she 
had  been  swept  away,  shrieking  and  seeking 
to  force  herself  toward  the  rock  whereon  old 
Hilltop  had  so  well  demeaned  himself.  Now 
there  emerged  from  one  side  a  woman  who 
spoke  to  none  but  who  clambered  down  the 
rough  waterway  and  waded  into  the  little  pool 
below  the  rock  and  stooped  and  lifted  some 
thing  from  the  water.  It  was  the  body  of  the 
brave  old  hunter  of  the  hills.  With  her  arms 
clutched  about  it  the  woman  began  the  clam 
ber  upward  again,  shaking  her  head  dumbly, 
when  rude  warriors,  touched  somehow,  despite 
the  coarse  texture  of  their  being,  came  wading 
in  to  assist  her  with  the  ghastly  burden.  She 
emerged  with  it  upon  the  level  and  laid  it 
gently  down  upon  the  grass,  but  still  uttered 
no  word  until  her  children  gathered  and  the 
weeping  Lightfoot  came  to  her  and  put  her 
arms  about  her,  and  then  from  the  uncouth 
creature's  eyes  came  a  flood  of  tears  and  a  gasp 
which  broke  the  tension,  and  the  death  wail 
sounded  through  the  valley.  The  poor,  af- 


OLD  HILLTOP'S  LAST  STRUGGLE         343 

fectionate  animal  was  a  little  nearer  herself 
again. 

There  were  dead  men  lying  beside  the  flames 
at  the  Eastern  end  of  the  valley,  and  these 
were  brought  by  the  men  and  tossed  carelessly 
into  the  pools  below  where  lay  so  many  others 
of  the  slain.  There  were  storm  clouds  gather 
ing  and  all  the  valley  people  knew  what  must 
happen  soon.  The  storm  clouds  burst;  the 
little  creek,  transformed  suddenly  into  a  tor 
rent  by  the  fall  of  water  from  the  heights 
above,  swept  the  dead  men  away  together  to 
the  river  and  so  toward  the  sea.  Of  all  the 
invading  force  there  remained  alive  only  the 
three  who  had  re-leaped  the  flames  and  those 
imprisoned  in  the  cave. 

There  was  council  that  night  between  Ab 
and  his  friends  and,  as  the  easiest  way  of  dis 
posing  of  the  prisoners  in  the  cave,  it  was  pro 
posed  to  block  the  entrance  and  allow  the 
miserable  losers  in  battle  to  there  starve  at 
their  leisure.  But  the  thoughtful  Old  Mok 
took  Ab  aside  and  said: 

*  'Why  not  let  them  live  and  work  for  us? 
They  will  do  as  you  say.  This  was  the  place 
they  wanted.  They  can  stay  and  make  us 
stronger, " 


344  THE  S10i*V  OF  AB 

And  Ab  saw  the  reason  of  all  this  and  the 
hungry,  imprisoned  men  were  given  the  alterna 
tive  of  death  or  obedient  companionship. 
They  did  not  hesitate  long.  The  warmth  of 
the  valley  and  its  other  advantages  were  what 
they  had  come  for  and  they  had  no  narrow 
views  outside  the  food  and  fuel  question.  The 
valley  was  good.  They  accepted  Ab's  au 
thority  and  came  out  and  fed  and,  with  their 
wives  and  children,  who  were  sent  for,  be 
came  of  the  valley  people. 

This  place  of  refuge  and  home  and  fortress 
was  acquiring  an  importance. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

OUR   VERY   GREAT   GRANDFATHER. 

AND  the  years  passed.  One  still  afternoon 
in  autumn  a  gray,  hairy  man,  a  man  approach 
ing  old  age,  but  without  weakness  of  arm  or 
stiffness  of  joint,  as  yet,  sat  on  the  height 
overlooking  the  village.  He  looked  in  tranquil 
comfort,  now  down  into  the  little  valley,  and 
now  across  it  into  the  wood  beyond,  where 
the  sun  was  approaching  the  treetops.  He 
had  come  to  the  hill  with  the  mere  instinct  of 
the  old  hunter  seeking  to  be  completely  out  of 
doors,  but  he  had  brought  work  with  him  and 
was  engaged,  when  not  looking  thoughtfully 
far  away,  in  finishing  a  huge  bow,  the  spring  of 
which  he  occasionally  tested.  Every  motion 
showed  the  retained  possession  of  tremendous 
strength  as  well  as  the  knowledge  of  its  use  to 
most  advantage.  A  very  hale  old  man  was 
Ab,  the  great  hunter  and  head  of  the  people  of 
the  Fire  Valley. 

A  few  yards  away  from  Ab,  leaning  against 
the  trunk  of  a  beech,  stood  Lightfoot,  her 

345 


THE  STORY  OF  AB 

quick  glance  roving  from  place  to  place  and  as 
keen,  seemingly,  as  ever.  These  two  were  still 
most  content  when  together,  and  it  was  well 
for  each  that  they  had  in  the  same  degree 
withstood  what  the  years  bring.  The  woman 
had,  perhaps,  changed  less  than  the  man. 
Her  hair  was  still  dark  and  her  step  had  not 
grown  heavy.  She  had  changed  in  face  and 
expression  rather  than  in  form.  There  had 
grown  in  her  eyes  and  about  her  mouth  the 
indefinable  lines  and  tokens,  pathetic  and 
sweet,  of  care,  of  sorrow,  of  suffering  and  of 
quiet  gladness,  in  short,  of  motherhood. 

As  twilight  came  on  the  woods  rang  with 
the  shouts  and  laughter  of  a  party  of  young 
men  who  were  coming  home  from  some  forest 
trip.  Ab,  looking  down  the  valley,  over  the 
flashing  flame,  into  the  forest  hills,  in  whose 
deep  shade  lay  Little  Mok,  old  Hilltop  and 
Ab's  mother,  could  see  the  lusty  youths  in  the 
village,  running,  leaping,  wrestling  and  throw 
ing  spears,  axes  and  stones  in  competition.  A 
strange  oppression  came  upon  him  and  he 
thought  of  Oak  lying  in  the  ground  alone  on 
the  hillside,  miles  away.  Ab  felt,  even  now, 
the  strong,  helpful  arm  of  his  friend  around 
him,  just  as  it  was  in  the  evening  journey  from 


OUR  VERY  GREAT  GRANDFATHER         347 

the  Feast  of  the  Mammoth  homeward,  when 
he  had  been  rescued  from  almost  certain  death 
by  Oak.  A  lump  rose  in  the  throat  of  the 
man  of  many  battles  and  many  trials.  He 
shook  himself,  as  if  to  shake  off  the  memory 
that  plagued  him.  Oak  came  not  often  to 
trouble  Ab's  peace  now,  and  when  he  came  it 
was  always  at  night.  Morning  never  found 
him  near  the  Fire  Village. 

The  young  hunters,  rioting  like  the  young 
men  in  the  valley,  were  passing  now.  Ab 
looked  upon  them  thoughtfully.  He  felt 
dimly  a  desire  to  speak  to  them,  to  tell  them 
something  about  the  hurts  they  might  avoid, 
and  how  hard  it  was  to  have  a  great,  heavy 
load  on  one's  chest  at  times — all  one's  life  — 
but  the  cave  man  was,  as  to  the  emotions,  in 
articulate.  Ab  could  no  more  have  spoken 
his  half  defined  feelings  than  the  tree  could 
cry  out  at  the  blow  of  the  ax. 

The  woman  left  the  beech  tree  and  ap 
proached  the  man  and  touched  his  arm.  His 
eyes  turned  upon  her  kindly  and  after  she  had 
seated  herself  beside  him,  there  was  laughing 
talk,  for  Lightfoot  was  declaring  her  desperate 
condition  of  hunger  and  demanding  that  he 
return  to  the  valley  with  her.  She  examined 


348  THE  STORY  OF  Afc 

his  bow  critically  and  had  an  opinion  to  ex 
press,  for  so  fine  a  shot  as  she  might  surely 
talk  a  little  about  so  manful  a  thing  as  the 
making  of  the  weapon.  And  as  the  sun  sank 
lower  and  the  valley  fell  into  shadow,  the  two 
descended  together,  a  pair  who,  after  all,  had 
reason  to  be  glad  that  they  had  lived. 

And  the  children  these  two  left  were  bold 
and  strong  and  dominant  by  nature,  and 
maintained  the  family  leadership  as  the  village 
grew.  With  later  generations  came  trouble 
vast  and  dire  to  the  people  of  the  land,  but  it 
was  not  the  part  of  this  proud  and  seasoned 
and  well-weaponed  group  to  flee  like  wild 
beasts  when  came  drifting  to  the  Westward 
the  first  feeble  vanguard  of  the  Aryan  over 
flow.  The  vanguard  was  overthrown;  its  men 
made  serfs  and  its  women  mothers.  Other 
cave  men  in  other  regions  might  escape  to  the 
Northward  as  the  wave  increased,  there  to 
become  frost-bitten  Lapps  or  the  "Skrallings" 
of  the  Norsemen,  the  Eskimo  of  to-day,  but 
not  so  the  people  of  the  great  Fire  Valley  or 
their  stern  and  sturdy  vassals  for  half  a  hun 
dred  miles  about.  No  child's  play  was  it  for 
those  of  anothei  and  still  rude  civilization  to 
meet  them  in  their  fastnesses,  and  the  end  oi 


OUR  VERY  GREAT  GRANDFATHER    349 

the  struggle — for  this  region  at  least — was, 
not  a  conquest,  but  a  blending,  a  blending 
good  for  each  of  the  two  forces. 

And  as  the  face  of  Nature  changed  with  the 
ages,  as  the  later  glacial  cold  wavered  and 
fluctuated  and  forced  back  and  forth  migra 
tions  of  man  and  beast,  still  the  first-formed 
group  retained  coherence,  retained  it  be 
yond  great  natural  cataclysms,  retained  it  to 
historic  ages,  to  wield  long  the  smoothed  stone 
weapons,  and,  afterward,  the  bronze  axes,  and 
to  diverge  in  many  branches  of  contentious 
defenders  and  invaders,  to  become  Iberian 
and  Gaul  and  Celt  and  Saxon,  to  fight  family 
against  family,  and  to  commingle  again  in 
these  later  times. 

Upon  the  beach  the  other  day,  watching 
the  waves  lap  toward  her,  sat  a  woman,  cul 
tured,  very  beautiful  and  wise  in  woman's 
way  and  among  the  fairest  and  the  best  of  all 
earth  can  produce.  There  are  many  such  as 
she.  Barely  longer  ago  than  the  other  day, 
as  time  is  counted,  a  rugged  man,  gentle  as 
resolute  and  noble,  became  the  enshrined  hero 
of  a  vast  republic,  when  he  struck  from  slave 
limbs  the  shackles  of  four  million  people.  In 
an  insular  home  across  the  sea,  interested 


35°  THE  STORY  OF  AB 

still  in  the  world's  affairs,  is  an  old  man  vigor 
ous  in  his  octogenarianism,  a  power,  though 
out  of  power,  a  figure  to  be  a  monument  in 
personal  history,  a  great  man.  But  a  few 
years  ago  the  whole  world  stood  with  bowed 
head  while  into  the  soil  he  loved  was  lowered 
the  coffin  of  one  who  has  bound  the  nations 
together  in  sympathy  for  Les  Miserables  of  the 
earth.  In  a  home  on  the  continent  broods 
watchfully  a  bald-headed  giant  in  cavalry 
boots,  one  who  has  dictated  arbitrarily,  as 
premier,  the  policy  of  the  empire  he  has 
largely  made.  The  woman  upon  the  sands, 
the  great  liberator,  the  man  wonderful  even 
in  old  age,  the  heart-stirring  writer,  the  man 
of  giant  personality  physical  and  mental,  have 
had  reason  to  boast  alike  a  strain  of  the  blood 
of  Ab  and  Lightfoot.  In  the  veins  of  each 
has  danced  the  transmitted  product  of  the 
identical  corpuscles  which  coursed  in  the  veins 
of  those  two  who  first  found  a  home  in  the 
Fire  Valley.  Strong  was  primitive  man; 
adroit,  patient  and  faithful  was  primitive 
woman;  he,  the  strongest,  she,  the  fairest  and 
cleverest  of  the  time,  could  protect  their  off 
spring,  breed  and  care  for  great  children  of 
similar  powers  and  so  insure  a  lasting  race. 


OUR  VERY  GREAT  GRANDFATHER    351 

Thus  has  the  good  blue  blood  come  down. 
This  is  not  romance,  this  is  not  fancy;  this  IE 
but  faithful  history. 


THE   END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


2ZJul'53HD 

[AUG27 

1978 

2  H953  LIU 

iV^t 

\ 

• 

-•- 

X 

MAY  i. 

LU  < 

of 
u 

0] 

- 

fau 

1  -or« 

1     I 

INTER-LIBM 

wtst   ^ 

t> 

LOAN 

«J 

P^                 ""**"*^ 
•"**                 ^*-~J 

s 

hi 

f- 

> 

JUL15  1971 

2 

z 

BEC.  OR.  JW*  & 

8  «79 

7Q 

JUL    91978 

BEC,  C1R,  O^C  1  9 

1978 

LD  21-100m-7,'52(A2528sl6)476 

U.  C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


